


Efterfest

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Ivar x Fredrika [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Birth Defects, Depression, Drunk flirting, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, Historical References, Hydrocephalus, Implied spanking, Mention of postpartum depression, Mild Sexual Content, Modern AU, Myelomeningocele, One Night Stands, POV First Person, Spina Bifida, Vikings modern au, antidepressants and side effects, cursing, implied verbal abuse, male impotence, mention of Norwegian witchcraft trials, mention of depression, mention of divorce, mention of the sami population in norway, mention of viking training, messed up sibling relationships, really bad flirting, shameless use of Swedish words / phrases, so much shame, suspected drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: Efterfest, AKA the bad flirting modern au, is based on a dream I had about the four sons of Ragnar. I’m not sure what happened while writing this, it definitely derailed from what I thought it was going to be. Oh well.This work brings up some sensitive issues, such as depression, antidepressives, erectile dysfunction but also some of Scandinavia's history in which the Sami population was treated very badly. I try to handle this as best I can.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WORDS / PHRASES
> 
> Är han hög? - Is he high?  
> Vackert namn – Beautiful name  
> Tack -Thank you  
> Mina bröder – My brothers  
> Raring - Darling  
> Efterfest – After-party  
> Nu ligger du illa till, stumpan – You're in trouble now, pumpkin (I don't think there's any really good translation for stumpan, this is the closest I could think of)  
> Vem i helvete tror han att han är? - Who the hell does he think he is?  
> Jävla lögnare – Fucking liar  
> De ser förjävliga ut – They look like shit / They're hideous  
> Ja – Yes  
> Håll käften – Shut up

The blonde 20-something year old seems to have finally mustered up enough courage to come talk to my friend.

”Here he comes.” I murmur to her. She smiles smugly but doesn't turn to look at him as he strides towards the table where we're sitting; she has already stolen a few glances and decided that he is pretty enough. When he comes closer it becomes obvious that he is tipsy; his steps are a little unsteady and his eyes slightly glossy. I stare at him, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach; there's something about his eyes that seems off. As he reaches our table I see that there's something strange about one of his pupils but the dim lighting makes it difficult to pinpoint it. Är han hög? He leans down and wraps an arm around Elin's shoulders.

”Do you have a name or can I call you mine?” Adina hides her gagging noises behind her palm and I silently berate myself for not being able to stop the corners of my mouth from turning upwards; that has to be one of the worst pick up lines in existence. Elin cocks her head to the side and gives him a cheeky smile.

”I'm Elin, and we'll see about you calling me yours.” Encouraged by her words, he presses closer.

“Elin. Vackert namn.”

”Tack. And you are?”

”Sigurd.”Adina pinches my arm and I snap my head to look at her. She locks eyes with me, quickly flicks her gaze away again, then returns to me and raises her eyebrows in a silent question. I immediately turn to look where she had let her gaze go and I hear her curse at me for not being more subtle. A trio of men is approaching our table. First comes another blonde, though a bit darker than the one currently fawning over Elin, his hair pulled back in a loose braid and an eager look on his face. He is closely followed by a taller man who looks to be a few years older than this Sigurd, though it could just be the beard and the scowl making him appear older. Lastly, trailing behind both of them, comes a darkhaired man with glasses who is struggling to keep up as he walks with a cane, one of his feet dragging behind.

“Sigurd! Aren't you going to introduce us to your new friends?” The eager one exclaims. Sigurd quickly glances over his shoulder.

”Mina bröder.” He explains while waving his hand at the trio then returns to stare at Elin.

“This is Elin.” The one with the braid expectantly flicks his gaze back and forth between Adina and me, clearly expecting us to fill in the information that his brother had left out. She pushes her strawberry blonde hair back behind her shoulder and smoothes the fabric of her dress.

“Adina.” She introduces herself. Her grey eyes move almost as much as his, as if she's having a hard time deciding which brother she should look at; the eager one or the bearded one. When I don't offer up my name, puppy boy attempts to sit down next to me but I hold a hand up to stop him. I clear my throat and make an effort to sound as polite as possible while rejecting him.

”Actually, we're having a girl's night. So if...”

”Don't be rude.” Adina chides me before swiftly turning to the young man and flashing him a big smile, one that always works. I grind my teeth as puppy boy returns the grin and steps past me to sit with Adina instead, closely followed by the bearded one. Fuck them for always doing this when we go out together. As much as I love them I want nothing more than to scream at them right now; if my goal for the night had been to find a date we would've gone clubbing, not to Aifur. The one walking with a cane catches up and he motions to sit down next to me. I hold my hand out again, even though it's clearly too late to stop my friends from inviting these four strange men. He ignores the silent protest that my palm poses and drops into the seat but I am relieved to find that he at least has the decency to not immediately press up against me like his brothers did with my friends. Puppy boy takes a swig of his mead before starting the introductions.

“I'm Hvitserk. This is Ubbe.” He nods towards the darkhaired one “And he's Ivar.” So far, only Sigurd and Hvitserk have spoken. Ubbe looks as if he's not completely present and Ivar seems to be very focused on an empty glass that someone has left at the next table.

“So, what are three young ladies doing in a Viking themed bar on a Friday evening?” Hvitserk asks, pressing the shorts covered top of his leg flush against Adina's leg. I suddenly become very aware of how short my skirt is and try to adjust it discreetly. First, I scold myself for not wearing something else. Then I berate myself for thinking this; it is in the middle of the summer and the sun has been scorching hot for the last week. Wearing anything that offered more cover would mean coming down with heat stroke. Besides, I like this skirt. I let go of the hem that I've been tugging at and fold my hands in my lap instead, leaning back against the couch again. It seems that I've missed some vital part of the conversation while doing this because Adina says my name in an annoyed tone. I lift my gaze to look at her.

“Tell him that it's your fault.” She pouts and points at me, ruining my attempt at setting my features into a look of feigned confidence.

“What?” I ask, completely out of the loop. I hear a scoff coming from my left side, where Ivar is sitting. Adina rolls her eyes at me.

“You're the one who wanted to go here.” Oh.

“A girl in Elin's and mine D&D-group recommended it. Right?” I look over at Elin for support but she is too busy trading cheeky remarks with Sigurd, who has now slid onto the seat next to her, to even notice me.

“That should have been your warning signal.” Adina retorts. I blush a little and take my time drinking the last of my cider to avoid having to continue the conversation. It works, because once I set the glass back down no one is demanding that I continue defending my choice. I sweep my eyes over the group. Elin and Sigurd only have eyes for each other and Adina is twirling a curl around her finger while hanging on to every word out of Hvitserk's mouth. He's telling some story about how he and Ubbe had gotten in trouble for throwing a party in their father's hunting cabin a few years ago. She laughs as he finishes talking and glances over at her other side where Ubbe is sitting, probably expecting him to sport the same shit-eating grin as Hvitserk. His face is still distant and she sticks her tongue out at him before turning back to puppy boy. I turn to look at Ivar. He's still completely focused on the empty glass. A drip of sweat trickles down his forehead and I wonder why he's wearing jeans instead of shorts, like his brothers. We're right at the height of Swedish summer; that sweet spot in the middle of July that people struggle to plan their vacation around; most of us would take any opportunity to put on bathing clothes and soak in the sun. His glasses are sliding down his nose and he quickly reaches a hand up, adjusting them with his middle finger. How has he not melted yet? I swirl my empty glass while thinking. I'm still thankful that he hasn't pressed up against me but it would be nice if we at the very least could make some small talk while our respective companies ignore us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The idea of calling a cab and going home has only grown more tempting in the hour that has passed. Still, I can't stomach the idea of leaving Elin and Adina alone with these strangers. Two slightly too drunk girls, in a place where they've never been before, left alone with four strange men? No. Sigurd isn't high though, that's a relief. The strange pupil is just something he was born with. The AC doesn't seem to have any effect on the steadily increasing warmth in the restaurant and me tapping my left foot repeatedly against the floor is probably not helping. We should have gone to a restaurant with an outdoor seating area but, as always, we were too late. Every table was taken and now I'm sitting in a Viking feast hall with sweat running down my neck, watching Ivar adjusting his glasses over and over again. The situation is growing unbearable. Finally, I stand up and he twitches at the sudden motion; he had been completely lost in his own thoughts.

“I'm going to get water. Do you want some?” He stares right past me while chewing on his full bottom lip.

“Yes, I'd like that.” It's the first words he's spoken and I can't help but appreciate how low and gravelly the words come out, though I don't understand why he sounds so suspicious: I'm just offering him some water. He awkwardly moves his legs and cane out of the way so that I'll be able to walk past him.

When I return to the table I notice that Ivar has tensed up even more. The band starts to play a Celtic tune and Elin tugs at Sigurd's arm. He swiftly pulls Elin to her feet and drags her further away from the table. They begin to dance, their movements somewhat uncoordinated but they both seem to enjoy it. He spins her until she has to lean against him for support. I push past Ivar again and slide into my seat. He doesn't say anything as I set the glass down in front of him. Once I've gulped down most of the water I take one of the ice cubes and slip it in my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue as I begin to study the grooves in the table. It soon becomes boring and I look up again. Both Ubbe and Ivar are staring at the dancing couple, jealousy written plainly in their faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another hour of me doing absolutely nothing passes before one of the waiters remind us that they're closing early tonight and we'll have to leave soon. Sigurd suddenly becomes very serious. He tilts his head down and looks deeply into Elin's hazel eyes.

“You know, my mother always told me to follow my dreams.” Ivar's hand tightens around the glass and Elin gives Sigurd a questioning look.

“Okay?”

“So, may I follow you home?” This time it's me fighting to hide gagging noises and Adina just rolls her eyes. Elin places a hand on Sigurd's shoulder.

“No more pick up lines, raring. You already have my attention.”

“That's not an answer.” He replies. She slides her hand down his arm and finds his fingers, squeezing them as she answers.

“I think we should take a cab. You're in no shape to walk all the way to our house.” Hvitserk reacts immediately.

“You all live together?” Adina nods.

“Mhm, we're renting an adorable little house together a bit outside the city centre.” There's a sparkle in puppy boy's eyes as he speaks up.

“Anyone thinking what I'm thinking?” Ubbe lifts his head and glares at his eager little brother. When he speaks up his voice leaves no room for argument.

“If you say orgy I 'll punch your teeth out.” I nearly spit my drink out and Ivar writhes uncomfortably next to me. Puppy boy will certainly be disappointed if he brings that idea up with Adina; she has a strict no more than three people-policy, herself included. Hvitserk sighs.

“What do you think of me, brother?”

“Just say what you meant then.” Ivar hisses. Hvitserk smirks, leans back and begins rubbing his palms together.

“You ready?” He asks while sweeping his gaze over our odd little group.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” Ivar snaps, clearly tired of these games. Hvitserk clears his throat.

”Efterfest.” It's quiet for a second; then people start scrambling to their feet. Not much to discuss, apparently. We divide ourselves into two cabs. Elin, Sigurd, Adina and Hvitserk hurry to grab the first one; laughing and whooping as they climb inside. I am left to share the other cab with the two sulking boys. I give the driver the address and he takes off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Adina herds our guests towards the set of wooden furniture we have in our small yard I scoop up the pile of cushions from the hall floor so that we'll be able to sit more comfortably. When I exit the house again Hvitserk and Ubbe are sitting in the couch, while Elin, Sigurd and Ivar have claimed three chairs. Adina is nowhere to be seen. Then her voice cuts through the silence.

“Look what I found!” She comes skipping from around the corner of the house. She's holding one bottle in each hand.

“Left overs from Midsummer.” Oh fuck no. She'd been digging around in the root cellar and found a bottle of Xanté. Even worse than that, she'd found the vanilla Vodka too. Hvitserk clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“You still have booze left from Midsummer's eve? You can't have celebrated it properly then.” The memory loss and the people that we found sleeping on our porch probably disagrees. She slams the bottles down on the skewed table that's placed between the couch and the chairs then points to me.

“Don't let her have any of the Vodka. She becomes too inappropriate even for me to handle.” I feel my cheeks burn and she takes off running to get plastic cups. I slump down in the last empty chair and begin to fiddle with the hem of my skirt again, ignoring the curious looks I'm getting from the strangers. She's not wrong, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...and that's why I'm no longer allowed in Frasses.” Adina finishes telling the story. Tears run down Hvitserk's cheeks as he howls with laughter but she only has eyes for Ubbe right now. She stares at the older brother, eyebrows raised as she waits for his reaction. It's obvious that he finds her story entertaining but he's still trying to fight it off. It takes another few seconds of silence but finally his mask cracks and he grins widely at her, a small chuckle escaping from his lips.

“There we go! I knew you had more facial expressions than that moping little look.” She playfully punches his arm “What took you so long?” Hvitserk has pulled himself together and he places his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them as he speaks.

”My brother is sulking because his wife left him.” Adina shoots up straight.

”You're married?” She squeals while crossing her arms over her chest and leaning away from Ubbe, conveniently pressing further into Hvitserk's grip. The sparkle in Ubbe's eyes fades again.

”I was married.” He mutters in response.

”Now he's single and ready to mingle. Right, big brother?” Hvitserk says, trying to coax out Ubbe's smile again. The scowl on Ubbe's face begs to differ. An awkward silence falls over the group but it doesn't last long. Sigurd rises from his chair and rushes towards the house. He returns with his lute, that' been leaning towards the railing around the porch, and Elin claps her hand enthusiastically.

“Oh, I've always wanted to learn how to play an instrument!” Ivar on the other hand groans at the sight of it, dampening Elin's excitement. Sigurd shoots his brother a cold glare and settles back down in his chair.

”Never mind him; he's just cranky that women prefer musicians over stuffy historians.” He says dismissively while guiding Elin onto his lap.

”I'm not a historian.” Ivar hisses in response.

”Oh right, you're just a psychology student who spends all his free time flipping through old books. Much more appealing.” The alcohol must've made me even bolder than I thought because the question leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

”If you like history so much, why do you study psychology?” Sigurd butts in before Ivar can answer.

”He started in history, actually. Then he had a disagreement with the course coordinator.” Sigurd turns to stare at Ivar ”Not enough blood and gore on the curriculum for you, eh, little brother?” Sigurd's remark makes Ivar's features harden and I'm not too thrilled about the comment either.

”We shouldn't sugar coat history. Humankind has a bloody past and present; we need to remember that.” I ignore the disgruntled look on Sigurd's face and turn back to Ivar while searching my brain for something that might interest him.

”Have you read Vikingar i krig?” I ask, taking a guess based on their unusual names and where we met them. His eyebrows shoot up

”By Hjardar och Vike? A furore Normannorum, libera nos, Domine.” A tssking noise escapes from between my lips, something I'd never use on a stranger; another sign of the effectiveness of the liqueur.

“Just because you know the quote from the preface, doesn't mean you've read the book.” The corners of his mouth twitch lightly.

“Of course I have read it. It brings up how it wasn't only physical training that was considered important: a great warrior needed a sharp mind as well.” His eyes glitter as he speaks “Being a skilled hnefatafl player was valued too.” Our budding conversation is interrupted by Hvitserk snapping at Adina.

“Don't bite your lip.” Both Ivar and I fall silent, even Ubbe seems to react to this sudden outburst. Adina looks at him with wide eyes and he leans closer to her. He drops his voice to a purr.

“I want to do that.” She blushes. She bites on her bottom lip again, maybe on purpose this time, and Hvitserk lets out a deep growl.

“Nu ligger du illa till, stumpan.” Adina inhales sharply and both Ubbe and Hvitserk take the opportunity to appreciate the way her chest moves at the sudden intake of air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elin has now deserted all pretences of wanting to learn how to play and started to run her fingers through Sigurd's hair while he tries to recreate the melody they danced to earlier. Meanwhile, Adina is getting closer and closer to sitting in Hvitserk's lap. He brushes her curls out of the way and leans down to nip at her neck. I feel a light tap on my knee and swirl in the chair to find Ivar staring at me, his cane still hovering right above my knee. He seems more tense now, shoulders up and his free hand resting at the nape of his neck.

”Did you know that 31% of death sentences in Norwegian witchcraft trials were passed in Finnmark?” He blurts out. I blink rapidly, trying to clear away some of the fog before answering him.

“Smooth.” Sigurd scoffs and Ivar looks the other way, starting to rub his neck while a bright red colour creeps up his neck and onto his cheeks.

”I got a book about the witchcraft trials as a birthday present.” I boast loudly, the mocking tone of music boy making me forget everything about pulling myself together before speaking. Some of the redness disappears from Ivar's face but he still can't bring himself to look at me.

“By which I mean I bought it myself, using the gift card that I got. Apparently, saying that you want a 420 page book filled with notes from witchcraft trials is a bit...strange.” I add. Something lights up in his blue eyes and he presses his lips tightly together. I think he might be hiding a smile and I'd be lying if I said it's not making me feel proud. Ivar finally lets his gaze return to me. Were his eyes always this pretty or is it just the liqueur combined with the odd thrilling sensation of knowing what the others are up to? My own hazel eyes wander to his hands; they look so big wrapped around the transparent plastic cup. His feet are big too, I saw that when we were in the cab. Big hands, big feet, big...His voice cuts through the fog again, making me snap out of my thoughts and sit up straight. I shift awkwardly in my chair as I ask him to repeat the question.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I help myself to some more of the Xanté and then wiggle the bottle in front of Ivar. He shakes his head this time too. Hvitserk whispers something in Adina's ear. She giggles and nods. She climbs down from his lap and stands next to Ubbe instead.

”Come.” She pulls the hesitant older brother to his feet. It looks as if he's about to object but Adina crashes her mouth to his. He relaxes in her firm grip and lets out a throaty moan. Adina pulls back, giggles again, and begins guiding him to the house. After a few steps, it seems that he decides she's walking to slow because he grabs her around the waist and picks her up over his shoulder. She shrieks with joy and holds onto him as they disappear into the house just like Sigurd and Elin had done a few minutes ago. I shake my head, a sheepish grin on my face, and return to the conversation with Ivar. While I only have flickered through Willumsen's book so far, he seems to have memorized countless details and facts from it.

“So in 1692 there..” Ivar stops in the middle of his sentence and stares at something behind me.

”What are you doing?” His voice is ice cold and defensive. I glance over my shoulder and see that Hvitserk has crept closer. He looks at me instead of Ivar when answering.

”Adina is cheering Ubbe up.”

”You're such a good brother, Hvitserk; always letting Ubbe go first.” Ivar says with something that I can't interpret in his voice. Puppy boy shrugs his shoulders.

”It will be my turn soon but I wouldn't mind someone helping me get ready.” Ivar inhales sharply. I don't understand what Hvitserk's saying right away, but once I do my blood begins to boil; vem i helvete tror han att han är?

”She's busy.” Ivar snarls.

”Busy talking. I have something more fun in mind.” My palm cracks against Hvitserk cheek. It's not very hard but certainly enough to send a signal. Ivar roars with laughter as his brother sputters in confusion. His teeth are perfectly white and even and I can't help but imagine what it'd be like to be bitten by him. I untangle my legs, movements a little clumsy, and scoot further out on the seat. I reach a hand out towards Ivar. His laughter stops suddenly as I begin to drag my fingers over his cheek. He stays perfectly still, eyes blown wide, as I redirect my attention to his hair. I find a strand that's escaped from the small bun and twirl it around my finger experimentally. Both of the brothers are completely silent now and I can feel Hvitserk staring at me. I give the strand of hair a playful tug before letting go of it and stroking Ivar's cheek one more time. I stand up and reach for Ivar's hand.

”Come. Let's go to my room. I want to show you that book.” He blinks a few times but stays seated in his chair so I lace my fingers through his and tug at him until he carefully rises to his feet. I turn to Hvitserk with the sweetest smile I can muster up.

”Oh, and if you want to take care of yourself you can go behind a tree and do that.” With that, I turn towards the house and Ivar follows as quickly as he can with his limp.

I drag him with me through the hallway, my bare feet pounding furiously against the floor and mixing with the sound of his cane hitting wood. Elin pokes her head out of her bedroom further down the corridor. Her mouth falls open at the sight of Ivar and me and she nearly drops the hoodie that she's clutched to her chest to cover herself.

“Where did you go?” Sigurd grunts as he appears behind her, his hair a mess. She points at us as we walk past them.

“I thought you said he can't...” She doesn't finish the sentence because Ivar let's out a deep growl and she jumps in surprise. I slow down a little to glance at him over my shoulder. He looks less shocked now, more determined. He moves his fingers so that he has more of a grip on my hand and quickens his pace a little so that he's walking next to me instead of behind me. We walk past the bathroom and turn left. I slam the door to my bedroom open and Ivar pushes past me to immediately slump down on my bed and toss his cane at the pillows. As soon as the door is closed I stride towards the bed and hike my skirt up so that I can straddle him. His warm hands go to my ass and he uses his grip to press me closer. I find the hair tie holding his bun together and rip it away. He jumps in surprise and hisses angrily at me but I'm too busy brushing my fingers through the dark thick strands to pay much attention to it. I grind a little on his lap, expecting to feel his bulge against me. Nothing. It doesn't bother me too much; I don't mind having to give him some extra attention to get him ready. His lips find mine and I kiss him back, deepening it. I coax his mouth open and slip my tongue inside. He's shy at first, almost making me wonder if there's something wrong with my breath. Then he finally meets me with his own tongue and begin to fight for dominance. We continue like this for a short while before I let him take control. We break apart to breathe and when we reconnect he shoots his hips up. It reminds me that his cock still is soft. While he roams my mouth I slide a hand down his chest and stomach, until I arrive at his pants. He twitches a little as I open his fly, but he doesn't pull away. I palm him through his underwear and begin dragging my fingertips back and forth over it, pausing from time to time to gently rub circles with the heel of my hand. At first, it seems to work and he groans against my mouth. Then, nothing more happens. In spite of my best efforts his cock stays in some half-erect state. He has stopped kissing me and hidden his face in my hair. I try again; my touches a little bit rougher this time. Still nothing.

“Umm, Ivar, are you okay?” He keeps his face hidden in my hair but I can feel the way his hands tremble as they rest on my hips.

“Ivar?” I try again. He straightens his back and turns his face up towards the ceiling. Ivar takes a deep breath then pushes one of his hands between our bodies to palm himself through his underwear. He starts to stroke himself almost furiously and I watch in silence, my buzzed mind not sure what to do or say. He removes his hand again. His eyelids fall shut and he lets out a soft whimper. I start to form a question but before I can get it out he roughly shoves me aside so that I land next to him on the bed. I clasp at the bedlinen to stop the sudden movement and keep myself from falling to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snarl.

“Jävla lögnare.” He whispers.

“What did you just call me?!”

“Not you.” His voice is low “The doctor. He said the new medicine would be better, that this wouldn't happen again but he's a fucking liar and I can't...I-I can't.” Ivar's hands turn into fists, holding on tightly to the cover and he squeezes his eyes shut. I stare at him.

“What medicine?” He looks down at the floor and his lips move but I can't hear what he's saying.

“What?” Ivar clenches his jaw.

“Sertralin Mylan.” A small _oh_ escapes my mouth. Antidepressant. We sit in silence for what seems like an eternity. The air feels heavy and I get a sudden urge to say something, anything, to break the tension. I clear my throat.

“So, this has happened before?” He nods.

“Sigurd found out?” Another nod.

“And he told everyone?” He swallows audibly before answering my question.

“While you got up to get water, Elin started reaming me out for not being more _sociable_ with you.” He sighs “And Sigurd said it was for the best because I will just be a disappointment.” A wave of anger crashes through me and I let go of the bedlinen to wave my hands in front of me.

“Wait, wait, wait; your brothers are fucking bullying you because of a side-effect of your medication?”

“Not all of them.” He hurries to say, sounding very defensive “When Ubbe still lived with his wife and we didn't see each other every day he'd text or call me to see how I was doing, ask if I'd taken my dose.” I raise my eyebrows and scoff.

“So that's about one third of your family not acting like a complete asshole. Hmm, I guess that's...”

“It's better than nothing.” Ivar fills in. His words stun me; that's not where I was going. The stern expression on his face warns me that it might be best to agree with him in this situation. I nod.

“Yeah. Better than nothing.” I crawl further up the bed and sit down with my back leaning against the headboard. Ivar closes his fly again. He lifts his head and sees me looking at him. He opens his mouth, probably about to utter some apology, but I cut him off.

“What were you saying earlier, about a trial in the beginning of 1690's?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what's it like being a psychology student?” I ask while stretching my arms high above my head.

“To be honest, I hoped to know how to mind-control people by now.” I laugh at that and I can see him smile smugly as he sits next to me. His glasses have slid down his nose again and before he can readjust them I take them from him and put them on.

“You have really shitty eyesight.” I remark.

“Don't you know that people with glasses hate it when others do that?” He chides. I reach for my purse on the bedside table and take the small black case out, holding it up for him to see. Before I can react he snatches it out of my hand and opens it.

“Stop it.” I protest weakly, but honestly I'm thinking that it's only fair since I have his glasses. He lets out a low whistle as he studies them.

“De ser förjävliga ut. No wonder you're not using them.”

“They're not that bad. Not everyone can afford, well, whatever rich kid brand these are.” I say while tapping a finger against the thick, dark frames. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Can I have them back now? I'm starting to feel dizzy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.” He pokes my arm and I reluctantly lift my head from the pillow. I must have fallen asleep mid-conversation.

“What?”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” He asks nervously. I stifle a yawn before answering him.

“Either here or in the living room. Your choice.” He doesn't speak again but I hear him breathing deeply. The mattress shifts and his cane touches against the floor; living room it is. I fall back asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes feel strange. I lift my hands up to rub them. Then it hits me; shit, I forgot to take the contacts out. I sit up and fumble for the bottle on my bedside table. The small drops hit my eyes and I wait for the contacts to soften so that I can take them out without scratching myself blind.

“What time is it?” I shriek and drop the bottle on the floor. My heart beats frantically as I turn to see Ivar's head poking up at the other side of the bed. I crawl towards him on all four until I can see him properly. He's prepared a nest for himself, using my spare cover and the pillows from my reading armchair.

“You slept on the floor?”

“Ja.”

“Why didn't you just get into bed?” He shoots me an annoyed glare but with his hair all tousled it looks more adorable than anything else.

“Just tell me what time it is.” I reach for my cellphone.

“09:37. Want some breakfast?” He nods and pulls himself onto the bed so that it will be easier for him to stand up. I swing my legs over the edge and get up on my feet, then wait for him to follow me. I feel a light tapping against my leg and look down to see the tip of his cane hovering right below my knee.

“Ahem, you might want to pull your skirt back down before showing me to the kitchen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The other book, I have it.” It takes me a minute to understand what he's saying and his smile begins to falter as he thinks that I've forgotten our conversation from the previous night. I haven't, it's just that my mind is working a bit slower today than it usually does. I push my glasses further up my nose while thinking.

“Witches of the North?” I say when I finally locate the title from my memories. He relaxes again.

“Mhm. I looked it up and it's pretty expensive for someone like you.” What? I raise my eyebrows at him. His entire face, and even his ears, turn red as he realizes what he just said.

“For a student, I mean.”

“You're a student too.” I point out, a little amused by his awkwardness.

“Well, yes, but my family...that's not important.” He plants his gaze on the wall behind me before getting back to his point.

“You can borrow it. If you want to.” I chew on my bottom lip, as if in deep thought.

“And what if I tell you that I'm one of those people that like to make notes in books as I read them?” All colour drains from his face. The horror.

“I'm kidding. I don't do that to my own books and I certainly don't do it to others'.” Ivar huffs angrily and takes another sip of his coffee. After we've eaten breakfast he writes his number down on a post-it and I type mine into his cellphone. His lock screen is two men standing in front of what looks like a boat. The one on the right looks like Ubbe but I don't get any more time to look at it. Ivar snatches his phone from my hand and gives me the post-it instead. I tuck it into the pocket of the shorts I changed into after his comment about my skirt earlier. A door opens further down the hall. Someone is dragging their feet as they walk toward the kitchen and I hear a loud groan.

“That would be Ubbe calling out for his morning coffee.” Ivar explains and grabs a fistful of sugar from the small bowl.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I'm going to miss them.” Elin sighs as we stand in our living room, watching the cab leave. Adina hums in agreement. Elin sits down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder.

“Did you have fun talking about nerd stuff with nerd boy?” She murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“That's good.” We look at Adina, who's still standing by the window. Right as I'm about to ask her to come sit down and watch a movie with us, she absentmindedly begins to rub her ass. Elin and I stare at her for a few seconds before exchanging a look. Elin clears her throat.

“What happened last night?” Adina swirls around to face us.

“Nothing.” She can't stop the blush that's creeping over her cheeks and ears. I turn to Elin again.

“I have a theory.”

“Oh, let's hear it.”

“ _You're in trouble now, pumpkin._ ” I growl, doing my best to mimic Hvitserk's voice. Elin joins in, acting out Adina's part.

“ _Please, I'll be good.”_

“ _You will be once I'm done with you.”_ I clap my hands together and Elin moans loudly. Adina looks ready to spit her juice out but she manages to force it down.

“Håll käften.” She mumbles while sinking down next to us in the couch. I laugh and muss her hair. Calling Ivar can wait until later; right now I want to spend some time with my favourite idiots.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the not-even-slightly-happy part 2 to Efterfest.
> 
> NEW TAGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Depression, Mention of postpartum depression, Hydrocephalus, Birth defects, Spina bifida, Myelomeningocele, Implied verbal abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS / PHRASES  
> Skyll dig själv – Suit yourself  
> Var är Ubbe? – Where is Ubbe?  
> Jag ska hjälpa dig – I'll help you  
> Snälla – Please  
> Var inte ledsen – Don't be sad  
> Är du där? - Are you there?  
> Ja – Yes  
> Bra – Good  
> Okej, okej. Ta det lugnt – Okay, okay. Take it easy  
> Män är svin – Men are pigs  
> Svin – Pig / swine  
> Hur förbannad är hon? - How pissed is she?  
> Små ljusglimtar – Small silver linings  
> Vattenskalle – Hydrocephalus (a layman's term, not the actual medical name for it)  
> God natt – Good night  
> Fan också – Shit / fuck (I am discovering the difficulties of translating Swedish curse words into English)  
> Hej, lillebror – Hi, little brother

I try not to look like a scared little child but the imposing figure of Ivar's half brother towering over me is making it difficult. Björn's arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks.

“Look, Ubbe gave me the key while he's gone. I am only to use it in emergencies.”

“I haven't heard from Ivar in days. He could be sick or hurt; to me that sounds like an emergency.” Björn shrugs his shoulders.

“Or he could just be ignoring you.” No, Ivar wouldn't do that. Not to me. Björn gestures back towards the elevator.

“I have to get back. There's a meeting that can't start without me.” He starts to turn but I raise my voice.

”Fine, but first give me the key.” Björn stares at me for another few seconds and I stare back, unwavering; I haven't gone all across town and waited for hours at the reception just to be rejected. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders as if this isn't really such a big deal to him even though he had just spent almost 20 minutes trying to make me turn back home. He presses the key in my palm and his eyes look as cold as ice when he speaks.

“Skyll dig själv.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I try calling Ivar one last time before getting on the tube and I chew on my bottom lip while listening to the signals. No answer. I put the phone back in my pocket and wipe the blood from my lip. Once I reach the apartment building I head for the elevator, only to notice a plastic sign saying that it's out of order. Shit. I make my way up the stairs as quickly as possible while fighting to hold back the thought that Ivar might have tried using the stairs instead and gotten hurt. My chest tightens at the image of him dragging himself back inside the apartment and hiding so no one would see him in such a vulnerable state. I reach the door and pound my fist at it, begging that I'll hear the sound of his cane clicking against the floor. Still nothing. My hand trembles as I take the key out of my pocket and slide it into the lock. As soon as I walk inside I can feel a foul smell coming from further down the corridor. I hurry past Ivar's shoes in the hall and step inside the large kitchen. There's dirty dishes all over the counter and the cabinet beneath it is open, the garbage bag so full that I think it might burst if not handled gently. I walk out of the kitchen and turn right to continue down the corridor. I know that I should hurry but I'm afraid of what I might see. Why is it so difficult to breathe? The bathroom door is open and I'm relieved to see that he's not lying in the bathtub, skull split open. Bedroom or living room it is. Finally I find him, stretched out on the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. He's on his side, facing away from me. Is he breathing? My own lungs seem to be malfunctioning at the moment. I frantically search my mind for the information I had read about Sertralin Mylan in the first few days after meeting Ivar. What was the lethal dose? And does he have enough of it at home to be able to take that much? Ivar had refused to tell me anything more than the name of his medicine and I had been a little bit relieved that I didn't need to take any responsibility for his health; that was Ubbe's job. As I close in on the couch he shifts slightly, tugging at the blanket to cover him all the way up to his ears. A sob of relief escapes my mouth.

“Go away, Björn.” His voice is weak and muffled but he's alive and I want to hug him tightly while shouting out my joy. I stop myself because I have no idea how he will react. Instead of clambering into the couch with him and kissing his full lips until we're both out of breath, I kneel in front of it and reach a hand out. There's a strange smell in here too, something that I can't quite put my finger on. His hair, that usually looks as if it's begging to be touched, is matted and lies flat against his head.

“Ivar?” My words come out a whisper while I begin to pet the dark mop. His breath hits me in the face as he turns his head slightly and let's out a low whining noise.

“Fredrika?” His voice is raspy.

“Björn gave me the key.” He blinks slowly and his head falls back down.

“Haven't you seen all the texts and calls from me? I've been worried sick.” I ask, sounding more harsh than intended. He ignores me and instead asks exactly the question I don't want to hear right now.

“Var är Ubbe?” I avoid his gaze, not sure how to tell him that his brother hasn't returned from his impromptu vacation and that I have no idea how long he will be gone. I drag my fingers through his hair again and try to steer the conversation in another direction.

“When's the last time you showered?” He doesn't answer but the smell of sweat and his greasy hair sends a clear enough message.

“Jag kommer hjälpa dig.” He doesn't fight back, just lies there as I take the blanket from him and leave it crumpled up on the floor. When he turns so that he's facing me instead the there's another waft of the strange smell. I furrow my brow and let my gaze slide from head to toe. There are stains on his chinos along the inside of his left thigh and at the centre of his crotch. Urine. That's the smell. My heart lurches and I bite my lip while studying his clothes. He's not soaked in it, that's good. Probably leakage and not a full-blown wet-his-pants situation. A shiver goes through Ivar's body, drawing my attention back to his face. There are tears forming at the corners of his eyes. I force myself to take three deep breaths and try not to grimace at the smell.

“Come on.” I say softly, tugging at him to make him sit up and glancing around the room in search of his cane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I go through his closets. Doesn't he own any shorts or sweatpants? It's still pretty warm outside and I don't want him to start sweating right away. I finally find a pair of thin pyjama pants at the very back of the closet and I fold them together with the t-shirt and underwear. When I enter the bathroom Ivar is leaning against the wall; one hand on his cane and the other on top of the washing machine. I put his clothes down next to the towel. While turning on the water, I realize that I have no idea how he showers; does he have one of those plastic chairs that he can place in the tub? Can he stand up and lean against the wall? That last one sounds dangerous. Looking around, I don't see any chair and I can't remember seeing one in any of the other rooms either. Hoping he will have the good sense to tell me if he does have some sort of aid somewhere, I gesture at the now filled tub and clear my throat.

“I'll go start with the dishes. Call for me when you're ready.” I close the door behind me and walk back to the kitchen. I open the dishwasher to find that the plates and silverware there are actually clean. The forks and knives are quickly returned to the right drawer but it takes me a little while to figure out where to put the plates; Ivar had usually already set the table whenever we ate together. A large thud comes from the bathroom. I turn rapidly, dropping the plate and barely noticing the way it shatters against the floor. I run towards the noise, slam the door open and step over the threshold. Ivar is sitting in the tub, the plastic bar used to hold the shower curtain on the floor. He's tugging at the large piece of polyester that's covering most of his body.

“Are you hurt?” He shakes his head. I press my palms to my chest, willing my heart to calm down. I kneel down right outside of the tub and reach a hand out, determined not to leave him alone in here again.

“Let's get you cleaned up then.” My hand closes around the edge of the curtain and I begin to pull at it; Ivar visibly shudders. I retreat and see him squeeze his eyes shut, hands clasping tighter around the polyester. Did he pull it down intentionally? I don't ask him about it, opting instead to reach for the shower nozzle and turning the water on so that I can wash his hair. The water hits the back of his head and he inhales sharply. My voice comes out barely audible.

“Is it warm enough?”

“Mm.” I turn the water off again and reach for the shampoo, emptying some of the content into my palm and rubbing it in. I tell myself that I'm doing this because he likes the feeling of my fingers combing through the thick, dark strands and that he finds it soothing. Honestly, it's just as much for me. Seeing him like this makes my chest tighten even worse than when I thought he might have fallen in the stairs and I need to be comforted as well. Ivar is the only other person here though and he's in no shape to cheer me up. An odd sensation at my fingertips make me snap out of these thoughts. What was that? My fingers brush against something behind his left ear. I circle the area again, feeling a small swell. Ivar squirms a little and I snap out of it, going back to washing his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I put the soap down next to him then place my hand on his cheek, carefully stroking it while he stares straight ahead.

“I'll go clean up in the kitchen.” I still don't want to leave him alone but it has become obvious that he's not going to remove the shower curtain as long as I'm in the room. My clothes are soaked, I realize as water begins to drip onto the floor. I probably should've changed out of my clothes and borrowed a bathrobe but I was too caught up in the moment, unwilling to get up and leave again when he looked as if he might break any second. I only hesitate for a second before taking the liberty of going through his closet again.

He doesn't say anything as I enter the bathroom again about 15 minutes later, wearing his t-shirt and a pair of jeans that I had to roll up about two decimetres. I take out his toothbrush and toothpaste, holding them out to him as he sits on the toilet seat. He takes them and squeezes some toothpaste on the strands then gives the tube back to me; his every movement looks sluggish and with every passing second I grow more and more afraid that he'll pass out and fall. I awkwardly readjust the belt to keep the borrowed jeans from falling down before handing him his cane and grabbing him under his armpit to help him stand up. We move slowly towards the living room. He lies down in the couch again and I offer him another blanket, which he quickly uses to cover himself. Ivar closes his eyes when I begin to pet his hair but I'm not sure if it's because he's enjoying it or because he's trying to pretend like I'm not there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I open the refrigerator, expecting it to be filled with various ingredients in spite of all the signs that Ivar hadn't been outside in quite some time. A few carrots in a plastic bag, some onions, Dijon mustard and maybe half a glass of his lactose-free milk. I go to the freezer next. There's some peas and an opened pack of chicken fillets. My heart sinks as I remember that I had promised to go grocery shopping with him four days ago. Usually, Ubbe would do it but Ivar wanted to go by Karolinska Institutet because they were hosting a TEDx-event, so I had offered to pick him up with Elin's car and then we could do both errands together. Then there was an emergency at work and I couldn't go. He had sounded a bit disappointed but said that he would tell Ubbe there had been a change of plans. What happened after that? I make up my mind and go back to the living room.

“Ivar, I'm going to order food. What would you like?”

“Not hungry.” He mumbles from his curled up position on the couch. I bite my lip and then return to the kitchen. I begin looking through every drawer and cabinet, hoping to find a take out menu that might show what he ordered the few times he didn't cook his own food. Bingo; there's a sushi menu taped to the inside of the spice cabinet door. I find my purse on the living room floor and take my phone out. Six missed calls from Elin and a couple of texts from Adina. I bite my lip again; they'd have to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The food is on the way and I decide that it's time to ease my friends' minds. Elin answers on the second signal.

“Where the fuck are you? You said you'd be home in a couple of hours!”

“Are you going to the gym tomorrow?” I hear her sputter on the other end, probably infuriated by my lack of explanation.

“Elin, snälla.” I plead. She sighs, never able to stay angry for long.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I'm at Ivar's apartment. I'm spending the night.” Elin immediately begins to _Ooooh_ loudly and I snap.

“Not like that!” I turn and close the kitchen door behind me “He hasn't gotten out of the couch for days. The apartment looked like a shit hole when I came here.” She reacts immediately.

“What do you need?” There's no hesitation in her voice, just genuine concern. I often fear that she will end up being one of those social workers who care too much about the people they meet, that her work will end up robbing her of sleep, incapable of letting go. Right now though, I'm thankful.

“Can you take the car tomorrow instead of the bus? I know the parking is shitty but I really need to get some of my clothes here and I have to go get groceries.” She begins to say something but I'm rambling now, all of my frustration and sadness rushing out “Ubbe's car is being repaired so hopefully the guest lot that he uses will be available otherwise I guess I'll have to drive through town looking for another one. Traffic will be hell tomorrow but I can come meet you a bit further from the centre and drive it here so you don't have to do it. I don't know if he's taken his medicine or when Ubbe's coming home. He says he doesn't want to eat.” Something wet runs down my cheeks and I struggle to calm my breathing; why are my lungs acting like this today? Elin speaks in a soothing voice.

“Sssh, var inte ledsen. I'll take the car there.” She waits until she hears that I've calmed down.

“What time do you want me to come?”

“I -I don't...early.” I finally say “There's nothing to eat for breakfast.”

“I'll be there at 7.”

“Tack.”

“Now” She says firmly “Does he take his medication pre-emptively or just during, um, episodes?” I search through my memories, trying to remember if I'd ever seen him take it or if he'd ever spoken about it. Nothing. The only thing I can come up with is what Ivar told me the night we met; Ubbe would call or text to see how he was doing. Elin's voice shakes me from my thoughts.

“Är du där?”

“Yeah. Just let me check something.” I start looking for Ivar's phone, eventually finding it in his jacket. A flood of guilt rushes through me as I type the password that I'd _'_ accidentally' seen him use but I force it back down; this wasn't the time to be afraid of snooping around. There's 43 notifications; a few are reminders from facebook about events in the area, others are newsletters from book clubs like Clio but the majority of them are texts from me and Ubbe. There's a voice mail from Björn. I slump down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and turn on the speakers: _Hey, how are you? Ubbe told me to check in on you._ It is impossible not to hear the boredom in his voice. Elin seems to hear it too because she curses loud enough for me to hear it even though my phone is resting on the table He ends the message with half-heartedly muttering something about how Ivar should call if he needs something.My knuckles have gone white from gripping at the edge of the table. It was sent 3 days ago; when Ivar had most likely already curled up on the couch. Ivar hasn't even opened the voice mail and still Björn doesn't seem to have made any new attempts at checking in. I scroll trough the messages from Ubbe, looking for clues as to whether or not the medicine was a daily thing.

“You're checking his phone?” Elin asks.

“Mhm, he told me that Ubbe usually checks in on him about his medication so I'm looking for clues.”

“Smart.” She praises me. For the past four days Ubbe's texts where almost exclusively short updates like _Arrived at the hotel_ , _Had a great dinner tonight; will try to get a recipe so we can cook it when I get back home_ and _32 degrees here!_ Before that, there's fewer texts and they are mainly about when he will be home from work or when he's going to pick Ivar up to do errands. Ivar almost never responds and when he does it's usually just with a word or two. When I reach May, and even further back, there's almost ten times as many messages. It was when he still lived with Margrethe and didn't see Ivar every day. When I hit March I finally find something; an emoji that looks like a pill followed by a questionmark. Maybe he had been busy at work and not had the time to send a full-length text or maybe Ivar didn't like Ubbe asking out-right. Ivar's response is a simple _Ja_ , to which Ubbe had replied with _Bra_ and a heart. 20 minutes later, Ubbe wrote again: _I'll come over ASAP_.

“I'm not sure but I don't think he's taking them all the time, only when he's having an episode. It could just be that Ubbe has asked him in person now that they're living together. Or maybe he calls.” I had no more information than before and I feel myself getting worked up again.

“Fuck I don't know anything.” I whine.

“You could always call Ubbe and ask him.” My entire body tenses at the thought of Ivar's older brother.

“I'm not really in the mood to talk to him right now.” I say cooly.

“Okej, okej. Ta det lugnt.. Just let me think for a moment.” She hums to herself while thinking of what I could do.

“Oh! See if he has any alarm that's set to ring every day.” I do as she says and find two alarms.

“There's one at 07.00 and one at 21.00.”

“So the one at 7 is for when gets up in the morning and the one at 21 might be when he takes his medicine.”

“ _Might be_?” I screech.

“Look, if he's taking it every day that means there should definitely be a pack somewhere in the apartment right now. Find it and read the label.”

“Will you stay on the phone with me while I look?”

“Of course, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Naturally, Ivar doesn't keep his medicine in the bathroom cabinet like most people I know do. Then again I guess alvedon and antidepressants didn't really get the same reaction when stumbled upon by some nosy visitor. After 40 minutes the food arrives and I have to stop my search to go open the door. I leave the food in the kitchen and return to the bedroom. After another 15 minutes I'm ready to tear my hair out in frustration. I stomp into the living room. There's not a lot of good hiding places in here. Ivar ignores me as I move around. Just as I'm about to give up on this room too, I remember something and curse out loud. There's drawers on the living room table. Bingo.

“Found it.” My eyes scan the label for information.

“He's to take it once a day. Looks like he's done it too, except for yesterday.” Elin exhales.

“Phew, that's not so bad. Just skip yesterdays dose, then wait until 21 and make sure that he takes the one for today, ok?” I don't answer her.

“Fredrika?”

“Is it supposed to be like this?” I whisper. Elin sighs, I don't have to explain what I'm talking about.

“Love, I have no idea how long he's been taking these. Sometimes it takes a while for it to kick in, or you experience a lot of side-effects in the beginning but they usually fade away after a couple of weeks. Or he needs to readjust the dose. I'm not a doctor. Make sure that he takes it tonight and look up who prescribed it; that should also be on the label. You can call them in the morning.”

Elin stays on the phone with me until I confirm that Ivar has taken his medication. After having thanked her a thousand times I return to the living room and sit down at Ivar's feet.

“Don't you want to go to bed?”

“No.” I hesitate, not sure if I should try to convince him or just let him be. He has showered and brushed his teeth, taken his pill and even eaten some dinner. Let him be it is.

“Do you mind if I sleep in your bed?” I think I can see him shaking his head.

“Good night.” I leave the door open, afraid that I might miss any sound coming from the living room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I set my bag down on the floor in the hallway. When I turn to face Elin again, she hands me a lunch box.

“Adina baked these.” I take off the lid and look at the scones. She holds up a tote bag.

“Here's some cheese, marmalade, butter. You should eat breakfast before going out.” I take a glass from the cabinet and pour the last of his lactose-free milk, spread the rhubarb marmalade on one of the scones and bring it to the living room. I place his breakfast on the table and sit down on the edge of the couch. He's not sleeping, his body is to the tense for that. I trace his cheek with my fingers, mimicking the motions from the night we first met. His eyelids flutter but he keeps them closed, allowing me to continue the soft touches for a little longer. Eventually, he lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. I think I can see a hint of light that wasn't there yesterday. It is a weak light, like a small candle struggling against a strong wind; but it is something.

“Breakfast.” I say with what I hope is a reassuring smile and point at the table. He motions to sit up and I move so that I'm not in the way. I can hear Elin walk around in the apartment while I watch him eat. He chews slowly as if every motion takes a great amount of energy.

“I'm going to get groceries. Is there anything you want?” He just shrugs his shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I press start on the washing machine and stay seated in front of it until I'm sure that it's working. I hear footsteps approaching and turn my head to see Elin coming towards me.

“I've unpacked all of the groceries. Want to try calling the doctor?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Have you checked his mail?” Elin asks me while putting her shoes on.

“No. Why?”

“Bills, information from his doctor, maybe he has ordered one of those nerd books you both like so much.”I look at the key chain that Björn had so reluctantly given me; there doesn't seem to be one there that would fit in the mailbox at the entrance to the apartment building. After having dug through every pocket on Ivar's jacket I find his set of keys in the inner pocket. I follow Elin downstairs.

“He's got an appointment with a physiotherapist.”

“Do you know why he walks like that?” Elin asks suddenly.

“No. He doesn't talk about it. I helped him shower yesterday but he covered himself with the shower curtain. I left once I had washed his hair.” She hums and stares into thin air as if deep in thought while I continue rifling through the mail. There's another letter, reminding him that the insurance for his glasses is about to expire.

“I did notice something. He has a sort of bump here.” I press my fingertips to a point slightly behind the upper part of my ear “His hair is usually in the was but yesterday I could feel it.”

“Maybe a scar from surgery, like removal of a tumour? That could've affected his nervous system.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Adina's question shakes me from my train of thoughts and I look up from the cup of tea that I've been turning round and round in my hands. I begin to answer but she interrupts me.

“Properly, I mean. Not for 2-3 hours on the couch or a quick nap on the bus.” I shift awkwardly in my chair; I'm actually not sure what to say. The past two days has been all about Ivar and even before that my worries kept me awake. My silence seems to be answer enough. She leans forward and takes my hand, a concerned expression on her face.

“Look, I understand that you want to take care of him. But it shouldn't be at the expense of your own health.”

“I wouldn't have to take care of him if your boyfriend hadn't taken off without warning.” I snap. Adina's head jerks to the side as if I struck her. She sits in silence for a few seconds and I stubbornly look the other way. Out of the corner of my eye I see her pull her phone out of her pocket. Really? She's going on facebook now? She clears her throat and holds the phone out for me to take, which I reluctantly do. It's Ubbe's instagram.

“Does it look like he's my boyfriend?” She asks in a low voice. I go through the pictures from the last six days and immediately regret snapping at her.

“I'm sorry.” I whisper, feeling like a complete jackass. She shakes her head.

“I get that he's still recovering from the divorce, but it would've been nice if he had given me some sort of heads up before going off and fucking others.”

“This trip, it's probably the only thing he's done that's just for himself ever since their parents died. And I understand that, it can't have been easy having three younger brothers and at the same time working with Björn to keep up the family business. He deserves to do something for his own sake, he really does, but I just...”

“He should've talked to you first.” I finish. They hadn't really been a couple, but they had been on several dates after that first night and it had seemed obvious that they were going to end up together. Adina reciprocates the gesture and smiles at me weakly.

“Män är svin.” She murmurs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I'm just about to hang up when she answers.

“Hi, how is he doing today?”

“Help me.” It's all I can get out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Adina wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer so that I can lean my head on her shoulder. Elin studies me with a stern look on her face.

“You need to get out of the apartment.” She says. She turns to Adina.

“Take her out. Go drink coffee, go for a walk, watch a movie. Anything. I'll keep an eye on him.” I start to shake my head before she's even finished talking.

“He's not going to let you take care of him.” She ignores my comment and addresses Adina instead.

“Get her out of here.” They gang up on me and I am dragged out into the hallway, my shoes pressed into my hands. The apartment door slams shut behind us before I can object again.

“Won't this be too much for her? I mean, it's not that long since her sister, you know.” I ask while getting in the elevator. Adina squeezes my hand reassuringly.

“Don't worry about it, she can handle herself. We won't be gone for long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Ivar slowly starts to come back from the suffocating sadness interspersed with verbal attacks on me, the events since Ubbe's departure begins to clear. His big brother left for his trip on the same day that Ivar and I was supposed to do errands. Ivar had started feeling numb a couple of days before that but he didn't want to burden his older brother who was in the process of finalizing his divorce. Besides, dr Johansson had told him over and over that he might experience some side-effects. Meanwhile, I was busy at work and communicated with Ivar mainly through texts; completely oblivious to the fog that was beginning to settle over his mind. Ubbe never found out that I couldn't take Ivar shopping and so he jumped in a cab and rushed to the airport less than an hour after I'd cancelled my plans with Ivar. I keep Ivar's phone on me at all times, letting it rest on the washing machine while in the shower, in case anyone actually decides to check in on him. Ubbe's updates come further and further apart but there's still one in the morning and one in the evening.

Day ten arrives, and with it a call from Ubbe. Of course, I miss it in spite of my best attempts of getting to the phone in time. Just as I'm about to return the call, the phone buzzes again but this time it's because of a text. As I read it, I snap the rubber band around my wrist to stop myself from biting my lip again. I tuck Ivar's phone back into my pocket and take me own out.

 _Ubbe will be back tomorrow night_. My phone buzzes and Elin's name lights up the display: _Go easy on him._ Adina disagrees; her message reads _Punch him in the dick for me_ , followed by a heart and a wide smile emoji. Honestly, Adina's idea sounds much more tempting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ubbe's eyes widen in surprise as he sees me standing in their hall.

“Hi! I didn't expect to see you here this late at night.”

“Svin.” Ubbe flinches back.

“What the fuck kind of greeting is that?”

“You're right, I'm sorry. That was really offensive to pigs.” I struggle to keep my voice down so as to not disturb Ivar and the words come out in a low hiss. He looks dumbfounded but there's definitely worry brewing in his eyes.

“Can I go say hi to my brother?” He asks in a low voice.

“No, he's asleep. You and I are going to have a talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ubbe squints in spite of the fact that there's almost no sunlight left out on the balcony.

“...and then back in February the doctor decided that Ivar needed to switch to something stronger. He'd been wanting that for a long time but Ivar had read up on tri-whatever and objected, loudly. The list of possible side-effects seemed pretty nasty. Then at the beginning of March I finally managed to talk him into at least trying. So he started to take, um, Klomipramin-something. It seemed good at first but after a few weeks he started noticing some side-effects, bad ones; not just a flaccid cock. He got tremor, you know kind of like people with Parkinson do. Then his muscles started cramping. He went to the bathroom once while I was visiting and I was downstairs getting the mail. When I came back he had fallen off the seat while trying to stand up. His muscle coordination is already bad, as you've probably seen, and those pills only made it worse.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. He's going through the pack quickly; in the time that we've been sitting out here talking he's had at least eight. After that I stopped counting.

“I was so pissed at the doctor. I called him, screaming, asking how he could possibly think it was ok to give my little brother meds that could fuck up his legs even worse. I mean what if I hadn't been there? What if he'd hit his head? That day wasn't exactly a high point in Ivar's life; he was so, so fucking embarrassed that I found him on the floor with his pants still down. Then he started freaking out at the mere thought of being alone. It got to the point that when the semester ended he actually started asking if he could come with me and the others when we went out; I guess that's kind of a silver lining on the crap cloud that is his life?” He stubs his cigarette in the ash tray.

“I get that you're mad at me but you've known him for a month; I've been his only caregiver since he was 16 and that takes its toll. Stack that on top of trying to work with Björn, who's becoming more and more like daddy dearest and my wife taking off. I have a life too. Needs, just like everyone else.” Everything he's saying is reasonable, I know that. It's just that right now I'm not very interested in listening to reason. I straighten my back and look at him with all the disdain that I can muster up.

“Yes, the pictures Adina showed me made that very clear.” His face twitches.

“Hur förbannad är hon?” I scoff in response.

“Ask her yourself. But only if you actually care; if you don't just leave her the fuck alone.” He nods as if to say _Fair enough_. I clear my throat to bring Ubbe back to our conversation.

“What is this?” I brush my fingers over the same spot behind my ear as I did when showing Elin what I had discovered while washing Ivar's hair. One of Ubbe's hands immediately goes to his back and begins to absentmindedly rubbing it right above the sacrum.

“He has a shunt. Do you know what that is?” He lifts his hand again and waves it before I can answer “Wait, wait. I should probably start from the beginning.” He begins to explain that Ivar was born with something called myelomeningocele, meaning that the nerves exiting his spinal marrow are damaged.

“It varies from person to person how affected they are by this; some barely notice it while other's need personal assistants and just about every aid there is to make it through life. Ivar's injury is low on his spine.”

“And that's a good thing?” I ask.

“Mhm. The higher up it is, the greater is the risk of brain damage and need for surgery. He has a moderate version; it impairs his movements and he experiences some pain but he can still live a fairly independent life.”

“And what about his kidneys and bladder?” Ubbe cocks his head to the side. I clear my throat and tell him what I saw when I found Ivar on the couch. By the time I'm done speaking Ubbe's face has softened.

“Yeah, that would be another result of his disease. These kids are often also born with hydrocephalus.” That I actually do know what it is; too much spinal fluid surrounding the brain which leads to increased pressure and, if untreated, to brain damage.

“Vattenskalle.” I say, mostly to myself but Ubbe nods.

“That's why he has glasses, the hydrocephalus caused astigmatism. Now, the shunt deviates the spinal fluid and leads it to his abdomen where it is absorbed by his blood. The bump you felt is the valve; the thing that regulates the flow so that the spinal fluid is kept at a healthy level.”

Ubbe falls silent again and he stares at me intently as if he's trying to gauge my reaction to all the information that I've received over the last few hours.

“You shocked?” He asks in a low voice. I squirm a little, not entirely comfortable with his scrutinizing gaze.

“Yeah, well, I've only known him for a month. I wasn't around when any of these things happened. The only thing I've seen is, well...”

“That first night?” I nod. We have never tried again, not even kissed. Sometimes he lets me rest my head on his shoulder while watching a movie but I can tell that it makes him nervous so I try to refrain from doing it.

“Why are Sigurd and Hvitserk so cruel to him?” Ubbe avoids meeting my eyes.

“That's a long story.” He says while playing with his lighter. No. Not ok. I'm so tired of this bullshit with this entire family. I narrow my eyes at Ubbe.

“We have time.” The coldness in my voice seems to startle him and he shifts awkwardly in his seat before speaking up.

“They don't have the same feeling of responsibility for Ivar as I do. Neither do Björn. Sure, he is the oldest but he is so much older that he is more of an uncle really. We don't have the same mother either. So, for all sibling related purposes, I'm the big brother.” He takes out another cigarette, fiddling with it.

“By the time Ivar was born, our parents already had a strained relationship and dad was gone most of the time. So even though I'm only two years older than Hvitserk, I was the man of the house. Then when mom needed to be with Ivar at the hospital all the time I had to be a dad as well. Sigurd and Hvitserk, they have always made it clear that they appreciated me; but having an older brother didn't change the fact that they felt abandoned by mom. She had always been a good mother, she did care for us. But then everything with dad happened and Ivar was sick and she couldn't do it anymore. What little energy she had, she put into making sure that Ivar had a decent life because he needed her the most. Sigurd and Hvitserk couldn't understand it because they were still like children.” His voice trails off and he lights the cigarette that he's been playing with for the last minutes. When he speaks up again, his voice sounds so small.

“I can't be 100% sure, but I think mom had postpartum depression. Or something close to it anyway. I do know that she blamed herself for Ivar's illness.” I raise my eyebrows in a silent question.

“MMC, it is, um, it's more common in certain environments and no matter how many times the doctors told her that the causes are unclear she couldn't shake the feeling that it was her fault. It didn't matter that the first three kids came out healthy in the same environment.” What am I supposed to say to this? Nothing I come up with seems good enough, comforting enough. Maybe I shouldn't comfort him, I'm still mad after all.

“I know it doesn't look like it right now but it's been a good summer for him. You've been good for him.” Ubbe sees the hesitant look on my face and raises his hands in a defensive gesture.

“I'm not trying to guilt trip you into staying.” I scoff at him and a hint of a smile appears on his face.

“Ok, maybe a little. But, I understand if you want out. Just promise me that you'll think about it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He closes the balcony door behind him and kneels down next to his suitcase.

“I should head home.” I murmur while pulling at a loose thread on my sweatshirt. He doesn't stop digging through the luggage, doesn't even look up.

“Do you have a car?”

“No.” I admit.

“And there's no bus going all the way out there at this time of night.” It's not a question.

“I can call a cab.”

“Nonsense. Just sleep here. Ivar will be happy to see that you didn't take off as soon as I came home.” I chew my lip while mulling over his suggestion, having completely forgotten about the rubber band.

“Where will I sleep? I'm not getting into the couch with you and there's no extra mattress.” Ubbe finally looks up and gestures at the bedroom across the hall.

“Go lie down next to Ivar, he has a big bed.” What? Ubbe must see the shock on my face because he smiles lightly.

“Don't worry, he won't kick you out. I've done it more times than I can count and I'm sure that he'll like your company more than mine.” He finds his toothbrush and gets back on his feet.

“God natt.” He heads to the bathroom while I stare at the closed bedroom door. Is this really a good idea? It just feels so...intrusive.

“He likes it.” I jump in surprise and swirl around to see Ubbe poking his head out from the bathroom.

“Just don't hog the cover.” My cheeks turn red and Ubbe disappears again. I take my phone out; 02:47. No wonder I'm tired. I chew my lip again; a habit that has grown so much worse in the last week and a half. Getting a cab all the way back home would be expensive. I move carefully towards Ivar's room and open the door just enough to slip inside. His tousled hair and t-shirt covered shoulders pokes up from underneath the cover.

“Are you awake?” No answer, just his calm breathing. I close the door behind me again, then step out of my shorts and pull the sweatshirt over my head. There's only one cover and I tug at it carefully to not disturb him. I settle in to the bed that by now feels almost as familiar as my own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I wake up to the sound of Ivar's alarm. I reach my hand out, blindly fumbling for the source of the noise. Where is it? In my shorts, somewhere on the floor. Fan också. I half-roll, half-stumble out of bed and begin to search the floor, something that would be a lot easier if I had bothered with putting on my glasses. There. I shut the alarm off and let out a groan of relief at the silence that follows. There's a rustle as Ivar moves in the bed behind me.

“Not a morning person?” He asks in a sleepy voice.

“Not today.” I answer while standing up. As I motion to get back under the cover I suddenly remember that I'm just in my underwear and a worn out camisole. It feels like a stupid thing to be embarrassed about seeing as I had helped Ivar in the tub. Still, I blush and hurry to crawl under the cover with my back turned to him. He doesn't say anything and it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep again.

Some time later, I'm awakened yet again by some horrible noise. There's something moving in my hair, combing through it and petting it. Sadly, it stops as the knocking on the door continues.

“Come in.” Ivar says, drowning out my small whine of disappointment. The door opens and Ubbe walks inside. His presence wakes me from my dreamlike state and I rub my eyes fervently. This is it.

“Hej, lillebror.” Ivar bites his bottom lip. I should get him a rubber band too, or maybe offer to do the biting for him. Ubbe turns to me.

“Can we have a minute?” I nod.

“Yeah, just let me get dressed.” He leaves and I stumble out of bed again, putting my shorts and sweatshirt back on. I give Ivar his phone before leaving. Ubbe is waiting for me in the kitchen. He gestures at the table that's full of various breakfast foods.

“Stick around. Eat some breakfast.” There's something pleading in his voice and when I sit down at the table he visibly relaxes. He disappears out of the kitchen and a few seconds later I hear Ivar's door open and close. And I wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karolinska Institutet, a medical university in Stockholm. KI stands for the majority of medical academical research in Sweden, and it has the largest variety of medical programs and courses. It is one of the world's foremost medical universities and it is their Nobel Assembly that elects who will receive the Nobel price in medicine or physiology.
> 
> Clio: A book club focusing on history and cultural history.
> 
> Alvedon: An antifebrile / anodyne medication containing paracetamol (usually called acetaminophen in USA)
> 
> *Spina bifida (myelomeningocele): A defect meaning that the neural tube isn't closed. Normally, the neural tube closes at about 3-4 weeks into the pregnancy. The defect can be located anywhere between the neck and the sacrum (edgebone) and its effects on the patients life and health varies. If the damage is located low on the spine, the brain is usually not affected. Possible symptoms include: impaired motorical skills, incontinence and constipation.
> 
> **Hydrocephalus: There's too much cerebrospinal fluid in the brain, which causes the pressure to rise to harmful levels. Almost every child born with spina bifida are also born with, or develop, hydrocephalus. Possible symptoms include: impaired vision, learning disabilities and latex allergy.
> 
> *Sources: 1177.se, Barnläkarföreningen (Pediatric union), columbianeurosurgery.com,  
> **1177.se
> 
> Information about side-effects of the different medications comes from FASS (Pharmaceutical Specialities in Sweden)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get to know a bit more about Fredrika.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ingen akademisk kvart? - No academical quarter? (more info in end notes)  
> Inget vitlöksbröd? - No garlic bread?  
> Fika - A "meal" that can consist of sandwiches, pastries, coffee, tea etc depending on your personal preferences and what time of day it is  
> Kallt ute - Cold outside  
> Kanske - Maybe  
> God natt - Good night  
> Den unge Werthers lidanden - The sufferings of young Werther  
> Överraska mig - Surprise me  
> Japp - Yup  
> Dolda tillgångar - directly translates to Hidden assets, but in this context I'm referring to the movie Hidden figures  
> Förlåt - Sorry  
> Gymnasiet - The Swedish equivalent of high school (sort of, more info in end notes)

I hesitate for another few seconds before sending the text. Once it's been sent I immediately drop the phone on my bed and try convince myself to clean up the worst of the mess. Instead, I end up pacing back and forth while waiting for Ubbe to answer. After what feels like an eternity my phone buzzes and I toss the pile of clothes I'm cradling against my chest to the floor.

 _Meet us there at 15:20_ . Before I can reply another text drops in. _Don't be late_. A spark of anger flares up inside my chest; he still thinks I'm the one who needs to learn how to care for Ivar.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I struggle to stay awake as the teacher very, very slowly lists the differences between German and British romanticism. The line to the microwaves at lunch had been even longer than usual and I didn't get to finish my lunch before having to rush back to the classroom; something that my stomach is now loudly protesting against. A girl in the row in front of me turns to stare and I blush a little, trying to shrink in my seat.

“We can also see that the British authors tended to be more open with their criticism against society.” Professor Sundström glances at the large watch hanging in the corner of the classroom.

“10 minute break; stretch your legs, get coffee and then we'll take a look at some of Thomson's poetry.” While my classmates dig around in their coat pockets for enough loose change to buy some  coffee in the cafeteria, I hurry to gather my things and leave the classroom. I pull my phone out of my pocket as I walk towards the exit; 25 minutes until I have to be at the clinic. Now that Adina has dropped my bike off at campus, getting there in time shouldn't be a problem. I'm not sure why I agreed to come with them to the doctor's office. I had already made up my mind about dr Johansson after the phone call during Ivar's episode; the man had seemed completely incompetent to me and meeting him in person doesn't sound tempting at all. At first, he had been reluctant to speak with me at all; I'm not Ivar's partner or family, I'm just some girl he's known for half a summer. Ivar certainly hadn't told the doctor that he could speak to me. When the doctor finally did bother with saying something, everything came out vague. As the call ended I sat there feeling like an idiot. Elin had spent the better part of an hour comforting me and explaining that he couldn't just tell me anything without Ivar's permission. My frustration was quickly turned to Elin and I snapped at her about why she'd tell me to call him if she knew he couldn't tell me anything. She didn't flinch, she never does, and took my hands in hers.

“Because he needs to know how Ivar is doing. And, well,  I hoped that hearing everything from the doctor might reassure you.” She'd been right of course, I already knew about the doctor-patient confidentiality but at that moment it had seemed so mind-numbingly stupid.

I park my bike outside the clinic and walk to the entrance where I see Ivar and Ubbe waiting for me. As I come closer, I see the way Ivar is grinding his teeth together. He avoids my gaze up until I say hi.

“Hi.” He answers quickly before gesturing at the doors.

“We should go inside.” Ubbe nods and stubs his cigarette, then reaches for the door.

“Come on then.”  He holds it open, smiling at me as Ivar and I enter before him. Glancing at Ivar from the corner of my eye, I notice that he's grinding his teeth again.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we leave the clinic, Ubbe stops us so that he can take another cigarette before getting into the car. Ivar stares at a point somewhere near my shoulder and I clear my throat, trying to ask him if he's gotten any further in The encyclopedia of the world's special forces. The apple I forced down before getting on my bike can't have done much to still my hunger because my stomach decides that this is the best time to give another loud growl. Ivar furrows his brow.

“You haven't eaten?”

“Lunch was a bit stressful; long line to the microwaves.” I explain. Ubbe wastes no time, immediately nudging at Ivar's shoulder.

“Invite her over for dinner.” He says “You're not in a hurry anywhere, right?” I try to avoid Ubbe's gaze but fail miserably.

“No, but I can't stay for long. Have to get up early tomorrow.” I murmur. He flings an arm over my shoulders and begins to steer me towards their car.

“Great! Ivar's making carbonara.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“When do you have class tomorrow?” I look up at Ivar where he's leaning against the kitchen counter while stirring the pasta.

“8 am sharp.” He furrows his brow lightly.

“Ingen akademisk kvart?”

“No, it's a seminar.” I answer. He hums to himself while pouring the pasta in the colander. A few minutes later he announces that dinner is ready. Ubbe and I shuffle to our feet and begin to load our plates with carbonara. I glance at the oven, seeing that it's not on.

“Inget vitöksbröd?” I ask a little disappointed. Ivar rolls his eyes at me and moves to the side, revealing the basket of bread that sits behind him on the kitchen counter.

“You're addicted.” He sighs while I greedily grab three slices at once. We sit down at the table and begin to eat. When I return to the table after having helped myself to a second serving of pasta and bread, Ivar clears his throat. His eyes never leave the plate as he speaks.

“You could stay here tonight if you want to. Get an hour extra of sleep.” I open my mouth, about to say something about how I need to study for the seminar and I don't have the book it's based on here. Ubbe is quicker.

“I checked your course website; it's on Frankenstein, right?”

“Mhm.” I murmur, more than a little annoyed with the intrusion.

“Ivar has a copy of it. And the rest of the literature I assume you have in your bag, right?” I nod. It's all there, along with my notes.

“Well then I don't see why you can't stay, you still have some of your clothes here from last time.” He's not wrong; there's even a vanity case in my backpack should Ubbe decide to take off again.

“I guess so.” I say, a strained smile on my lips. Ubbe gives me a nod of approval while Ivar continues shuffling food into his mouth, his jaw a little less tense now.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I'm sitting in the couch, going through my notes on romanticism and the Enlightenment while listening with one ear to whatever it is that Ivar is watching; something called White Rabbit Project. He seems to enjoy it because he occasionally chuckles and the sound of it makes me relax in a way that I haven't been able to do since I texted Ubbe yesterday about the doctor's appointment. There's a knock on the door frame and we both turn our heads to see Ubbe standing there with a tray. The comforting warmth seeps out of the room and my right hand begins to run up and down my left arm. Ubbe holds the tray out for us to see it better.

“Fika.” I close my laptop and Ivar scoots a little closer to make more room for his brother. Ubbe sets the tray down and begins to hand out tea.

“Kallt ute.” He says with a smile as I take one of the cups from his outreached hands. I nod in agreement, fall has come unusually quickly this year. He sits down next to Ivar and reaches for the cheese and crackers. Ubbe clears his throat and I instinctively hold my cup a little tighter as if it could offer some sort of security.

“So, I was thinking we should probably get an extra bed. Fredrika has been spending a lot of time here lately and I keep hogging the couch. Seems to me like we need an extra place to sleep.” I'm not stupid; I know that he's waiting for Ivar or me to say that it's not necessary, that I'll keep sharing a bed with his little brother. Ivar shrugs his shoulders.

“Kanske. Where would we put it?” I don't miss the flash of disappointment on Ubbe's face.

“We could get a folding bed, they don't take much space. It could be here in the living room or maybe even in your room.”

“It won’t fit in my room.” Ivar says in a slightly annoyed tone.

“It would if we moved one of the bookshelves in here.” I scoff at Ubbe’s suggestion, earning a confused look from him. Ivar continues looking at the tv but nods his head in my direction.

“See, she gets it. The books stay.” Ubbe looks to me for support but I have no interest in getting between the brothers; I’ve never seen them disagree on something before.

“Ivar, I’m not saying we should throw them away. Just move them across the hall.”

“The books stay.” Ivar repeats, eyes still firmly planted on the tv. With that, the discussion is over and I’m not sure if this means that they will buy a folding bed and put it in the living room or if I will continue sleeping in Ivar’s bed. Which one is Ivar hoping for? His face is scrunched up in concentration, revealing nothing.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I'm surprised that Ivar hasn't snapped at me yet, what with my constant tossing and turning in bed. Glancing over at him, I try to determine if he's already asleep. He looks a little too tense for it.

“Ivar?” I whisper. He stirs a little but doesn't open his eyes as he mutters his response.

“Ssh, it's sleepy time.” I turn so that I can see him properly before asking the question that’s refusing to leave my brain.

“Did you not want me to come with you to the clinic today?” His eyes fly open but only for a split second; he squeezes them shut again and shifts a little in the bed.

“Ubbe told me that you should come, that you need to know everything. We can't keep springing surprises on you if you're to stay.”

“And, d-do you want me to stay?” Ivar nods. It’s barely noticable but he does nod. I’m on the verge of telling him that I’m not going anywhere but he demonstratively turns his back to me.

“God natt.” After a few minutes of hesitation the words come bubbling out.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ivar.” I don’t know if he hears me but at least I’ve said it. Six hours later, I wake up to the feeling of his fingers exploring my hair. I hold my breath to make the moment last longer.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Professor Sundström moves his watery grey eyes to me.

“Fredrika Eriksson, is it?”

“Yes.” He looks at the list in front of him.

“I see you were assigned to read Frankenstein. Based on the excerpts we've read from Den unge Werthers lidanden, could you tells us something about the differences between Goethe's and Shelley's way of using nature to describe things?” I clear my throat and hope that my uncertainty isn't showing all too clearly in my eyes.

“I'd say that Goethe primarily uses it as a way to describe people and heighten emotions; for example when he meets Lotte for the first time he describes some of her facial features as living and blooming, as if they were flowers. The nature that he describes is kind, soft and beautiful. Shelley on the other hand...”  The sound of a phone buzzing interrupts me mid-sentence. At first, I’m annoyed with whichever of my classmates had forgotten to leave their phone in their bag. Then I realize it’s coming from my pocket. My cheeks heat up as I fumble while taking the phone out and dismissing the call. Swiping left, Ubbe’s name disappears from the screen and I quickly apologize to the rest of the group.

“Sorry, a friend of mine is...having some health issues.” Sundström heaves a sigh and waves his hand for me to continue. Thankful that one of the university’s most orderly professors didn’t give me a worse scolding, I take a deep breath and hold on tightly to my notes.

“So, as I was saying…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Stalking down the corridor, my grip on the phone is painfully tight. Ubbe picks up right after the second signal.

“What is it?” I ask, expecting him to tell me that Ivar’s hurt.

“I have to work late tonight and Ivar’s at the physiotherapist.” Relief floods my body but it isn’t long lived “He needs someone to pick him up and drive him home.” Upset as I am, I flail my free arm in spite of the fact that Ubbe can’t see me.

“You expect me to give him a ride on my bike?” I feel Ubbe rolling his eyes at the other end of the line.

“Just come by the office and take my car. Call me when you’re there and I’ll come meet you at the entrance.” I glance at the watch hanging over the exit; 2,5 hours until my cousin comes to visit.

“What time?”

“He should be done in 20 minutes.” I lift my free hand to pull at the rubber band around my wrist.

“Fine.” I say, ending the call before Ubbe can push more of his responsibilities on me.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I grab the keys from Ubbe’s hand and turn to the parking lot, waving my arm in some dismissive gesture when he calls out from the entrance of the ridiculously large office building.

“I’ll have someone drop your bike off at campus!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ivar opens the passenger door and gets out of the car. I lock it then hold his bag out for him to take.

“Do you need anything else?” Without Ubbe there to hover over me and tell me what his little brother wants, or rather should want, helping Ivar comes much easier. He shakes his head.

“Not really. Will you stay tonight?” I gesture in the general direction of the nearest bus stop.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My cousin and her fiancé are coming to town tonight. They’re spending the night at my place.”

“Oh.” I’m almost angry at how disappointed he sounds, at how bad he makes me feel for occasionally choosing something that means we’ll be apart for a day or two. But only almost; how can I be mad at him when I’ve grown just as attached to him in the just under two months that we’ve known each other?

“They’re kind of the only family I have. The only ones I talk to at least.”I explain while offering him a soft smile. We have talked about my family exactly one time and it was a brief conversation. No siblings, dad dead, mom; a whole trilogy of her own. I think she’s in Costa Rica now, or maybe France. Some of the sadness disappears from his face as he breaks into one of those perfect and far too rare smiles of his.

“I get it. If mom was alive I wouldn’t let a day go by without at least talking to her.”

“Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say because Ragnar and Aslaug is another sensitive topic that we’ve barely touched on. All I know is that his parents didn’t have a healthy relationship but that Ivar adored Aslaug and admired Ragnar.

“See you tomorrow though; movie night.” I say quickly to steer away from the dark waters we’re heading towards. Ivar nods.

“Of course; I haven’t forgotten.” I only make it a few steps down the street before turning on my heel to shout a question before he disappears into the apartment building.

“Anything special I should bring for snack ingredients?”

“Överraska mig.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Fredrika!” Johanna pulls me in for a bear hug the second I walk through the door.

“Hi! I thought you weren’t coming for another hour.”

“Well, my fiancé was very eager to get here so we just arrived.”

“I’ve been sitting in a car for the whole day, I needed to get out of it.” He defends himself before giving me an even bigger hug than Johanna.

“Come on, let’s get your bags to my room.” I say as soon as I’ve disentangled myself. Opening the door I realize just how long it’s been since I cleaned it properly.

“Sorry it’s such a mess; I ran late.”

“Yeah, Adina told us you had to give your ‘friend’ a ride.” Johanna raises her hands to do air quotations.

“Mhm, his brother had to work late so he asked me to help him.” I say, ignoring her hint at  Ivar and me being more than friends. Johanna playfully shoves her elbow into my side.

“Seems like you’ve been helping this Ivar a lot lately. Adina tells me that you’ve spent so little time here the past month that you wouldn’t notice if she’d redecorate your bedroom.” Adam snickers at me, earning a not-so-harsh warning glare from me. I clear my throat and make another attempt at changing the topic.

“So, have you guys set a date yet?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

While Ivar busies himself in the kitchen I sit down on the floor in front of the TV and rifle through the DVD-collection. It’s my turn to pick a movie. Finally reaching a decision I put it in the Blue Ray-player and move to the couch. Ivar’s cane clicks against the floor as he makes his way from the kitchen, expertly balancing a tray with sandwiches and tea with his free hand.

“Found anything?”

“Japp.”

“Which one?” I pat on the couch next to me.

“You’ll see.” Ivar rolls his eyes at me but sits down without protest. I press play and he hums when he recognizes a scene from the trailer.

“Dolda tillgångar.”

“You’ve already seen it?”

“No. I started watching it but got interrupted.” He answers. I grab one of the sandwiches and settle down in the couch. For once, Ubbe isn’t home. He had to work late again, something about Björn being out of town on a conference. An hour or so into the movie my head begins to slowly tip to the side. I don’t notice it until it’s resting against Ivar’s shoulder. Out of reflex, I shoot right up again.

“Shit. Förlåt.” I murmur, already preparing myself to spend the rest of the night in tense silence next to a very nervous Ivar.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs. Stealing a glance from the corner of my eye, I see that he’s still pretty relaxed. There’s a hint of nervous fidgeting around his mouth but his shoulders are still down and he hasn’t inched further away from me. I take my cup from the table and take a long sip, scolding myself for the slip up. As soon as I put it down and lean back against the backrest Ivar flings an arm around me. The sudden movement makes me jump but I don’t think he notices. He pulls me closer and before I understand what is happening, I’m leaning against his side. At first I look up at him from the slightly awkward angle, observing the way he bites the inside of his cheek as he keeps staring straight ahead at the TV. The warmth of Ivar’s skin makes me endure the uncomfortable position for ten minutes or so but eventually I have to move. I try to reposition as carefully as possible. Thankfully Ivar seems to understand that I’m not trying to escape from his embrace; he loosens his grip on my shoulder and allows me to rest more comfortably against his shoulder. Thinking that this was the last awkward moment of the night I allow myself to relax again.

“Why are you single?” The question comes out of nowhere and I freeze, not sure what to say.

“I, um, I g-guess I haven't really been that interested in a relationship since my last one ended.”

“What happened?” Ivar’s voice sounds surprisingly neutral but the way he presses a bit closer to me gives him away.

“We met in gymnasiet and then he moved away to go to university in another city; the whole long distance thing didn't really work for us.” I leave out the part about how my entire first semester of university had been hellish with new family problems constantly popping up and how instead of supporting me my boyfriend had dumped me through a text message while I was sitting in my room trying to pull myself together before going to a funeral. I also skip  the part about how he had shared the most intimate details of our relationship with his friends, prompting them to make lewd remarks about me whenever we met.

“I’m sorry.” Ivar says.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Entering the bedroom after having brushed my teeth, I come to a halt when I notice the new addition.

“What’s this?” I point to the bed. Judging by the look on Ivar’s face I’ve just asked the stupidest question ever.

“A new cover. Me and Ubbe went shopping this morning and I said we should get you one.” It might seem like a small gesture but to me it means the world. I can practically see the way Ubbe’s face must’ve lit up when Ivar brought it up.

“It’s exactly the same as mine, which you sure seem to like.” _What?_ Ivar glances at me, seeing the confusion in my face. He puts his hands behind his head and settles more comfortably against the pillows

“You do this thing where you grab on to the cover with both of your hands, pinch it between your knees and then roll to the side.” He sighs “Every night I have to take it back. I’m just amazed you haven’t rolled off the bed yet.” I’m stunned by his words.

“You never told me.”

“It’s not like that would have changed-” I begin to ramble, cutting him off.

“I can sleep on the couch and Ubbe can sleep in here or we could get that folding bed. Maybe I should just go home.” As soon as I pause to breathe he rolls his eyes and grunts at me.

“I’m tired, Fredrika. Please just come to bed.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice, or at least I think so. Curling up under the new cover I make sure to turn my back to him so that he won’t see how red my cheeks are. Ivar moves behind me. This time he doesn’t wait for me to fall asleep before beginning to drag his fingers through my hair.

“Do you want me to stop?” This time his voice definitely cracks and I shake my head. He moves again, and a few seconds later his lips brush against my cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Academical quarter: If the schedule says 10-12, it means the lecture starts at 10.15. If the schedule says 10.00-12.00, there’s no academical quarter. This is (in my experience) usually applied only to lectures, but not to seminars / other exams. It seems to be more common in social sciences than in the medical field.
> 
> Gymnasiet: In Sweden, we graduate from högstadiet in June, the same year we turn 16. During that spring we apply for the program we want to attend at the gymnasium we want to go to, for example my nr. 1 choice was social sciences at a gymnasium in one of the larger cities in my area and I got accepted into it. The better grades you have, the higher chances you have at getting into your nr.1 choice. These programs are usually 3 years long, meaning that we graduate the year we turn 19.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild sexual content, choking

Ivar snakes an arm under my knee, lifting it up and outwards so that he can settle between my legs. I nearly cry out in frustration as he pushes me into the mattress, trapping me under his body. He’s taking too long and I begin to squirm, desperate for more friction, for more of his warmth. He finally closes the distance between us, pausing to wet his lips before completely lowering his mouth onto mine. Ivar doesn’t have to coax me into letting him in, just the sensation of finally having his lips on me again is enough to make my mouth fall open in a loud gasp which he eagerly uses to slide his tongue over mine. He still tastes of the cinnamon buns we ate for dessert. His hips move in time with his tongue, each stroke accompanied by a roll against my pelvis. In spite of my best attempts to keep him glued to me he escapes my grip, panting as he catches his breath. I go for his clothes instead, tugging desperately at them to make him undress and he does; smirking at me as his t-shirt lands on the floor. He tries to undress me too but I latch onto him, unable to let go of him long enough to pull my top off. I try to feel every last bit of his strong upper body but don’t get far before he overpowers me and pins my arms up above my head. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, one of his hands slowly releasing its grip on my wrists to instead ghost over my shoulder. With each passing second his fingers come closer to my throat and a pleasant knot begins to form in my stomach. His fingers finally reach their destination, wrapping around my throat and pressing. It’s not hard but it doesn’t have to be, not when I’ve waited for so long. His other hand leaves my wrists too, finding the hem of my top instead. He begins to ruck it up, not stopping until my breasts are exposed. He releases my throat and while I try to steady my breathing he gives them each a sharp bite, making me shriek. I’m still recovering when he disappears further down, his stubble tickling against my lower stomach. I must look wild; neck craned and chest heaving as I stare at him. Piercing blue eyes look back up at me from between my thighs. A knock on the door startles me from my vivid daydream, making my heart beat even harder as I lie in the tub. My hands practically fly out of the water and latch onto the edge instead.

“Fredrika?” Ivar’s voice is muffled by the bathroom door.

“Y-yeah?” I ask, hoping that he can’t tell tell what I was doing just by the sound of my now squeaky voice. 

“Are you done soon? I need to shower.” A small groan of frustration escapes my lips. Helvete också.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be out.” I answer, knowing there’s no chance of me getting to finish now. The dream of what I wish had happened last month after we finally kissed again was interrupted and now I can’t help but feel guilty for doing this in his tub.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My hands tremble as I do some finishing touches on the fishtail braid, fastening some of the more stubborn loose strands with bobby pins. Finally satisfied that I look presentable enough, I walk to the bathroom where Ivar is getting ready. He's fixing his tie, a look of deep concentration on his face.   
"Are you ready to go?" I ask.    
"Just a second." Ivar answers, eyes still focused on the mirror. His hair is let down and it takes every last bit of my self-control not to step closer and tug at it. Ivar starts to turn towards me.   
"There, now we can-" He stops in the middle of the sentence. His eyes are burning.    
"What is it?"  I ask, hands instinctively going to the waist of my dress and searching for wrinkles. Finding nothing wrong with my clothes I inspect the necklace instead.

“Nothing.” He sighs just as I’m about to go over my braid.

“O-okay.” I whisper, hands falling to my sides. Ivar suddenly becomes very interested by the sleeve of his shirt and he inspects it for a few seconds before hurrying past me in the doorway.

“Where is Ubbe? Isn’t he done soon?” He mutters, probably more to himself than to me. Ivar disappears into the living room and I immediately lean against the doorframe, eyes squeezed shut as I try to gather myself.

I go through my purse, making sure that I haven’t forgotten anything. I’ve already checked it twice but Ivar and Ubbe are still in the living room, speaking in hushed voices, and I need something to distract me. My phone buzzes with an incoming text from Adina:  _ How are you holding up? _ My answer comes out in a hurry  _ Ok, so far. We haven’t left yet.  _ Another buzz _. Promise that you’ll text me if you need to get out of there. I’ll call and say that I need you to come with me to the emergency room or something.  _ Always so protective. She’s actually working tonight.  _ And what if they ask what’s wrong with you?  _ She takes a little longer to answer now.  _ Tell them that I get really bad cramps, that should creep them out.  _ I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter.  _ You’re the best, Adina.  _ With that, I put the phone back in my purse and close it. Just in time too because Ivar and Ubbe exit the living room, Ivar now strangely fascinated by his shoes. Ubbe comes to a halt in front of me, eyes beaming. He adjusts his tie again then gestures towards me, from head to toe.

“Look at you, Fredrika! That dress fits you perfectly.”

“Thank you.” I murmur, before turning back to fiddle with the strap of my purse. From the corner of my eye I can see Ubbe nudge at his little brother’s shoulder and nod in my direction.

The limo is waiting for us just outside the apartment building. We take our time walking to it, not wanting to slip on the thin layer of frost. Gustav gets out and opens the backdoor for us. I sit down first and when Ivar follows his cane accidentally smacks against my leg. He jerks almost violently, as if he was the one that got hit, and moves it to his other hand. 

“Hold on a sec.” Ubbe takes a few steps away from the open door and pulls out his cigarettes. I shiver in the cold late October air, silently cursing Ubbe for not closing the door. I want to reach out and pull it shut but it would only earn me annoyed glares for the entire car ride. Ivar shifts on the seat and I automatically turn to look at him.  

“Ubbe’s right. You look beautiful.” Ivar says, voice so hushed that I’m barely able to distinguish the words. His eyes are trained straight ahead. My fingers carefully search for his hand, that rests against the top of his leg, brushing over the knuckles. Ivar still won’t look at me but he opens his fist, allowing me to interlace our fingers. When Ubbe finally sits down in the car he pretends as if he doesn’t notice the small act of intimacy between me and his brother. I can see the smug look on his face before he looks down on his phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’ve only been in here for ten minutes and I already feel as if I might melt. Have they never heard of AC? I know they can afford it. Greetings here, greetings there and the occasional  _ how are you feeling , Ivar? _ They don’t mean the depression though, that much is clear. Every time someone asks him they look at his cane, some even nod or point at it. One woman even lifts a finger to her head as if to indicate where the valve of his shunt is. Or maybe she’s asking if he’s right in the head? The thought makes me fume. They all get short but polite answers where he tells them how well he’s doing. As soon they’re done exchanging pleasantries with us they move on to Ubbe. The second son, the one being trained by Björn to lead a subdivision or something like that. I don’t know how Ivar feels about this; if he’s more relieved that he doesn’t have the same pressure on him as his brothers to be involved in the business, or if he’s upset at being seen as less capable. Right now, he mostly seems tired. He doesn’t really have bags under his eyes screaming out that he needs to rest but he seems to be leaning on his cane more than usual and I’ve seen him look longingly at the chairs that are reserved for us. I step closer to him as he finishes speaking with someone. Ivar turns to me and his face lights up. At first I think it’s because of me and there’s a warm fluttering in my stomach. Then I realize he’s looking over my shoulder. Turning around, my eyes fall on a man that I recognize from Ivar’s phone background, the man standing in front of a boat alongside someone I at first had thought was Ubbe but now know is a young Ragnar.

“Floki.” Ivar calls, loud enough for some to turn their heads, and begins to move towards the lanky man. Before I can follow him, a hand lands on my shoulder and Ubbe murmurs in my ear.

“Floki and his wife took some time off after they lost their daughter. Him and Ivar are very close so I’d suggest you make a good impression.” I grit my teeth at Ubbe’s advice but nod in agreement before stepping forward to catch up with Ivar. Him and Floki meet right in front of the buffé table.

“Ah, there he is!” The nearly bald man exclaims. They embrace each other in a tight hug and a spark of jealousy goes off in my chest. Floki turns his attention towards me and I get ready to introduce myself so that Ivar won’t have to repeat the awkwardness of the first time someone asked him about me.

“And who might this be, hmm?” His voice is cheerful and yet I feel like he’s a predator, closing in.

“Fredrika.” I say, holding my hand out. Floki ignores it, walking in a circle around me instead as if I’m a horse he’s considering buying. Or eating. Still, I stay put and try to keep the smile on my face. Ivar says nothing, only observes the strange behaviour as if this is nothing new to him.

“Sluta, Floki. Can’t you see she’s uncomfortable?” A blonde woman appears next to me, looking at me apologetically before glaring at the tall man.

“I just want to know who Ivar’s new friend is!” Floki complains but he listens to her, stepping past me to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She accepts a kiss from him then turns to greet Ivar.

“How has your summer been?” I like her. She looks at Ivar as she asks him; at his face, not his cane or legs. There’s genuine concern in her voice and she gives him her undivided attention, unlike the others who often zeroed in on Ubbe even as Ivar was still answering their half-hearted questions. Ivar shifts his weight on the cane before responding.

“It had its ups and downs.” His gaze briefly flickers towards Ubbe and I, so fleeting that I almost don’t catch it. Floki stares daggers at Ubbe.

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” The older brother tenses next to me. The air seems to thicken even more. Just as I fear that they will decide to have it out right here and now a familiar voice makes me sigh in relief, something I never thought I’d do at the sound of Björn’s voice.

“Floki, Helga.” The oldest son makes his way through the crowd and Floki slowly shifts focus, gaze deadly up until the second he is completely turned from Ubbe. Ivar tugs at his tie then nods in the direction of the tables.

“I want to sit down for a bit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ivar’s phone vibrates in his pocket, reminding him that it’s time to take his meds. While he slips away to the bathroom I take the chance of getting some questions answered. I pick up one of the small plastic pumpkins, turning it in my hands before clearing my throat.

“What is the deal with Björn?” Maybe not the best way to phrase it but Helga seems to understand what I mean. She glances at Björn where he sits at the middle of the table, surrounded by Torvi and the kids.

“It’s been difficult for him, Ragnar dying.” I scoff at that, opening my mouth to say that at least he still has one parent alive unlike his half-brothers that were orphaned as teenagers. I see the warning in Floki’s eyes and swiftly shut my mouth instead. It’s strange how they seem to be so protective of Ivar and simultaneously so fond of Björn. Don’t they know that he didn’t look after Ivar this summer? Helga looks down at the glass, clutching onto it with both hands.

“Björn lost his first child. It was a long time ago.” She says. My cheeks heat up, cursing myself for not being more tactful.

“Oh.” It’s all I can get out. There’s a pause where I’m not sure if I should say something, then Floki breaks the silence.

“Hon som inte får nämnas.” He mutters from his seat at Helga’s other side. Vilken konstig kommentar.

“How did he handle it?” I ask.

“He didn’t.” Helga replies with a sad smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We walk away from the noise in the dining room. The tables are being cleared of dishes and rearranged in preparation for the band that will go on stage in less than 20 minutes. I expect to just aimlessly wander the corridors until it’s done but Ivar motions towards a door. There’s a sign on it, stating that this is conference room D. Once inside, Ivar immediately finds a chair to sit down in. He leans back and heaves a sigh. I take the seat next to him, studying him as he stretches his legs out and flexes his fingers.

“You can go back if you want to. I don’t really feel like watching people dancing.” He says after a while.

“Det är okej. Jag kan stanna.” His lips become a thin line at that. Did I say something wrong?

“It must’ve been nice meeting Floki and Helga again.” I try. There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth and I think it’s the beginning of a smile, not a frown. He suddenly shifts in his chair so that he’s sitting sideways on it, facing me rather than the wall. I automatically copy his new position.

“Have I told you that Helga’s the one that taught me how to cook?” He asks.

“No.” I answer, leaning out of my chair.

“Mother didn’t think it was appropriate for me to learn, said it would be difficult since I can only use one hand. Besides, we had kitchen staff for that.” Ivar leans in against me, the loose hair only drawing even more focus to his lips. I love his lips. 

“Helga disagreed, though she would never admit that to mother-” He pauses, chewing the inside of his cheek again “she even used to teach Ubbe.” My purse slides down from my shoulder as I scoot further out on my seat, reaching for Ivar. My hands land on either side of his face, cupping it as I try to soothe him.

“I don’t like it when they fight. They’re all I have so they can’t fight.” He says in a hushed voice. 

“You have me. I’m here and on my best behaviour. I’m even keeping to the dress code this time” Ivar actually smiles at that. We’re so close that I can feel his breath on my skin. I close the distance, carefully melding my mouth to his. He whines, pressing closer to me. We move together languidly and I wrap my arms around him in an attempt to soothe him.

The door opens and Hvitserk sticks his head inside. Ivar twitches and our mouths disconnect but I don’t get up, arms still draped over his shoulders. His brother eyes us curiously for another few seconds then takes a step back, shouting into the corridor we came from.

“Found him!” He comes inside, slumping down into a seat at the opposite side of the table. Ivar and I pull back from each other and sit up straight again. Not ten seconds later the rest of his brothers enter the conference room.

“There’s something we need to talk about” Björn turns to me “Fredrika, do you mind?” He nods at the door.

“Of course.” I say, as usual lacking the energy to put up a fight about his brothers complete disrespect for our privacy. Already at the door, I realize I don’t have my purse on me and turn back towards the table. Björn raises his eyebrows at me. 

“Förlåt, I just want to grab my purse.” I mutter while making my way towards the chair.The purse is squeezed between the two seats Ivar and I were sitting on. Tugging at it, it doesn’t budge. I hear Björn sigh behind me as the seconds pass and I still struggle with getting my purse. Then I see what the problem is.

“Umm, kan du…?” I ask. Ivar blinks at me first, not understanding what I mean.

“You’re kind of sitting on the shoulder strap.” I finally murmur. Sigurd snickers and I see a blush creeping up Ivar’s cheeks.

“Sorry.” He whispers, shifting on the chair so that I can free the strap.

“See you later.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek then hurry out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to be quiet, biting on my free hand to muffle my moans. Ivar and Ubbe are still up, getting a midnight snack in the kitchen; but I excused myself to bed almost immediately after coming home from the office Halloween dinner. I return to the daydream from earlier today, though this time I picture him removing the perfectly tailored suit he wore tonight rather than the usual t-shirt. The change in imagery is enough to make me sob his name around my own skin; he looked better than anyone should have right to do. I’m so caught up that I don’t hear the characteristic clicking of Ivar’s cane against wood as he walks down the corridor and when he opens the door I don’t react nearly fast enough.

“Fredrika?” I freeze, like a deer caught in headlights. Ivar is just standing there, staring at me. My hand is still in my mouth and I can feel tears of embarrassment form at the corners of my eyes. He’ll hate me now, think I’m disgusting for still thinking about him in this way. I know I’ve uttered his name. Ivar finally comes to his senses and closes the door behind him. At least Ubbe doesn’t seem to notice what’s happening. I release the vice-like grip on my hand and stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to see the disappointment in Ivar’s eyes. He’s under the covers now, moving closer to me. My other hand is still under the cover, resting at my thigh. I jump in surprise as Ivar grabs it. He feels at my fingers, discovering the moist on them. I close my eyes, waiting for him to release me and turn his back to me, for him to pretend like I’m not there. He squeezes my fingers in his large hand and whispers in my ear.

“Ca-can I watch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WORDS / PHRASES
> 
> Helvete också - Damn it  
> Sluta - Stop it  
> Hon som inte får nämnas - She who must not be named  
> Vilken konstig kommentar - What a strange comment  
> Det är okej, jag kan stanna - It's ok, I can stay  
> Förlåt - Sorry  
> Kan du? - Could you?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW RATING: Explicit (18+ only)
> 
> NEW WARNINGS: NSFW, drunk sex, implied/referenced child abuse, implied alcoholism, some violence (grabbing and shaking), name calling

Ivar nuzzles against my cheek. His hot breath hits my skin in small bursts. Full lips hover right next to me, so close to brushing against my reddened cheeks. Our legs are just barely touching, the lower half of them hidden under the covers. I’m still not used to this, to his hungry eyes observing me as I work a hand between my legs. I stiffen under my fingers and turn my face away from Ivar, burying it in the pillow to muffle the noises. I stay like this for longer than is really necessary. Ivar retreats and lies down on his side, facing me. I pull at the cover to hide from his gaze. He has that almost sleepy look on his face again. I excuse myself, saying I need to use the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I walk to the sink and turn the water on. My hands are shaking. I don't know why I feel so guilty. Ivar is half-asleep by the time I return but he lifts the cover, inviting me to lie down next to him. Once he’s fallen asleep I carefully slip out of his grip and turn my back to him.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
Ivar clears the table, putting the milk back in the refrigerator. I start the dishwasher then lean back against the wall, listening as he hums along to Staffan var en stalledräng. It’s been on repeat for the last seven days, along with Tänd ett ljus and Hej Tomtegubbar and the only thing keeping me from going insane is watching how annoyed Ubbe gets whenever Ivar starts to hum along.   
"You meeting your mom for Christmas?" He asks, returning the cinnamon and applesauce to their places. I scoff and shake my head.   
"Me, Elin and Adina usually have an early Christmas lunch together and then I go with Adina to her family." His back is turned to me but I see his posture change.   
"Oh."   
"Not this year though. They're going on vacation." I hurry to add. Adina’s parents have invited me to join them in Poland but I don’t want to intrude, especially since they are going to visit family.   
Ivar nods, still turned away from me. "I used to spend the morning with Ubbe and Margrethe, then go to Floki and Helga in the evening before Hvitserk and Sigurd showed up at Ubbe’s."

“And now?” I ask.

“Ubbe wants us to have lunch together, then they will all go to Björn.”

“Take it you’re not that interested in going?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” The conversation dies out; my plans for Christmas could be summarized as relaxing in the couch, enjoying having the house all to myself for once as both my roommates go to see their families.

Ivar turns to face me, speaking up again. “You could come with me, I guess. Till Floki och Helga, menar jag.” It's not exactly my idea of a fun Christmas but I like Helga. Floki has calmed down too with his whole overprotective act; he’s no longer constantly looking at me as if he’s just waiting for me to break Ivar's heart. I wish I could say the same for Ubbe.

 

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

We’ve barely made it past the threshold before the blonde woman gathers me in a tight hug.

“God jul, Fredrika. I’m so happy you decided to join us. Has Ivar made you his famous apple pie before?” I shake my head and mumble a ‘no’. She takes a step back, tugging a greying strand of hair behind her ear.

“Then you’re in for a treat.” Helga turns to Ivar, arms spread wide. When he doesn’t immediately lean into her embrace she raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, so that's what it’s like now; too old to give your aunt a hug?” Ivar groans but I see him smile as Helga gets up on her tiptoes to reach around his significantly taller frame. Once the hug has ended they disappear into the dining room to set everything up. Floki guides me through the house, politely asking me about university and work. We reach what seems to be his office and he gestures for me to wait at the door while he retrieves something from the shelf above his desk.

“Ivar made this for me.” I look at the crudely carved wooden boat in his hands; he’s holding it like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. My arms reach towards him, palms turned upwards.

“I’ll be careful.” He places it in my hands, all the while glaring warningly. The boat isn’t more than maybe ten centimetres long and there’s a message, written in childish handwriting, under it: _Till_ _Floki_. Ivar can’t have been more than six or seven when he made this.

“I’m not his dad but he’s my kid. Förstår du?” I look up, returning the boat to him.

“Ivar is lucky to have you, I wish I’d had that growing up.” He makes a strange noise, something between a scoff and a chuckle. The boat is returned to its place and Floki throws an arm over my shoulder, guiding me out of the office.

“He’s always been terrible at picking women,” I tense before he continues “Looks like he’s finally made a good decision.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

I find a dessert plate in the kitchen and begin to fill it with the snacks set up by Helga. Ivar is sitting in the dining room, howling with laughter at the sight of Floki tucked into a Christmas sweater as per Helga’s instructions. The carpenter is snarling something about him making sure that next year Ivar will have to wear one too. Helga comes scurrying back inside the kitchen, carrying a plastic bag that by the look of it has been standing outside in the snow.

“Fredrika, could you put these in the refrigerator?” I take the bag and turn to the refrigerator. There’s a letter stuck to the door. I don’t really mean to snoop but it’s kind of hard to miss the familiar blue logo belonging to unicef. Helga notices me scanning through the text and tiptoes towards me.

“Floki doesn’t like that I put those up. Says he can’t go for a snack anymore without thinking of our Angrboda.” It’s an update letter, telling them what the money is being used for.

“I like seeing that our donations make a difference. We couldn’t save our baby, but-” She stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath before pulling her phone out.

“We’re also sponsors for two girls,” She takes two photos out of her phone case “Tanaruz and Ilona. I tried putting their photos up as well but he got all hysterical.” I blurt out the first words that come to mind.

“Couldn’t you have been my mom?” There’s no time for me to apologize or give an explanation, she is already embracing me.

“Tell me if Ivar, or anyone else for that matter, ever mistreats you. You’re always welcome here.” I stutter out a ‘thank you’ and Helga releases me. She takes the kettle filled with glögg then disappears into the living room while I’m still frozen with shock. Once I have pulled myself together and put the julmust in the refrigerator I follow her. She’s already ushering the men towards the side table.

“Mugs here, raisins and almonds there.” We all prepare a mug each of glögg and take our seats. Floki sips at the mulled wine, smacking his lips and narrowing his eyes as he evaluates this year's taste. He shrugs his shoulders and sets the mug back down.

“Have to say I prefer the one from 2010.”

“Saffran,” Helga recalls “that was a good one.” The pre-dinner fika continues in relative silence until Ivar suddenly curses.

“Fuck, my watch isn’t working.” He mutters. Helga shoves at his shoulder, attempting an angry glare that I have a hard time taking seriously.

“Language!” She chides Ivar. His cheeks are tinted red and Floki chuckles at them both. Trying to move on, Ivar clears his throat and speaks up.

“What time is it?” Floki glances at the clock behind Ivar.

“14.55 and don’t even think about taking the good armchair, that’s my seat.” The carpenter answers, already getting to his feet. We move into the living room and Helga pulls me down next to her in the couch while the men take one armchair each. Floki and Ivar immediately get into a discussion about whether or not they need to raise the volume.

“Are you trying to make me deaf, gubbe? Get a hearing aid!”

“You, pojkslyngel, need to learn to respect your elders.” As they continue back and forth, Helga leans in close enough to whisper in my ear.

“Ivar told me about your parents,” I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth “I meant what I said: You can come here whenever you want.” Helga straightens her back and shushes the still bickering men.

“Quiet, you two. It’s starting.” She gestures at the tv where this years host is already introducing the upcoming Kalle Anka show.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Fredrika, are you sure you just want water?” Helga asks me for the third time as we sit down to eat.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’ve never been a big fan of julmust.” Across the table Floki rolls his eyes like I’ve just said something sacrilegious. She pours three glasses of soda and hands me a fourth one filled with water. Ivar clicks his tongue when she gives him one of the other three.

“Soda? I can just have water too.” Helga rolls her eyes then leans down to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s Christmas, Ivar; live a little.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head then takes the seat next to me. There’s a brief moment of chaos as we all go to fill our plates with meatballs, salmon, herring, eggs and ham but it’s completely different from the chaos of my childhood Christmases. Here, it’s all set against Helga scolding her husband for teasing Ivar and the only alcoholic drink in sight is half a sixpack of light beer. Finally, Floki clears his throat.

“Has everyone filled their plates?” He waits for all of us to confirm with nods and ‘mhm’. We follow his lead as he raises his glass.

“Skål!”

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As soon as Ivar closes the bathroom door Ubbe changes. He holds the empty 50 cl plastic bottle out for me to see and I only spare it a quick glance before turning back to the cutting board, already sensing in which direction this is heading.

“I didn't think you liked julmust.” My heart immediately speeds up at the tone he’s using. Ivar hadn’t finished his bottle at dinner last night so he brought it home, took the last gulp right before we got out of the car on Christmas eve.

“I don't, Ivar drank it.” I answer. Honesty should be the best way to go, right? The change in the air is palpable. Ubbe steps closer, leaning against the kitchen counter next to me. I continue preparing the salad as if he isn’t there.

“He’s going to the dentist in three weeks.” Ubbe says.

“So?” I ask.

“You know what the medicine does to his mouth, to his teeth.”

“What was I supposed to do then?”

“I bought ramlösa for him to drink.” I set the knife down on the cutting board and turn to face him. 

“First of all, he had like 2,5 glasses of julmust. Second of all, I didn’t know about the ramlösa. You’ve stopped talking to me about- well, about everything!”

“Only because I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Ubbe says cooly. He’s gone before I’ve gathered my thoughts enough to ask him what the hell he means by that.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The only upside with working on New year's is the extra money. You’d think most people had gotten their shopping done earlier but no; every year there’s a rush of people that have forgotten some key ingredient for their fancy dinner, not to mention the swarm of people in their late teens and early twenties that flood the grocery stores looking for juice or soda to mix their booze with. At least I get to go home in an hour and take a bath, eat whatever Ivar has prepared for tonight. Ubbe and Hvitserk are having dinner with Björn then going to some club that they’re only getting into because of their last name. A woman around my age starts to empty her basket; placing snacks, soda and some grenadine on the band.

“Gott nytt år.” I say with a smile as she takes her card out of the terminal and begins to pack. Just one more hour.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I’ve just gotten off the bus when my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Adina.

“Shift over?” She asks as soon as I answer the call.

“Yup.”

“Feels good?” There’s a rustling noise as if she’s digging through something “Oh, blue or red?”

“Blue. _So_ _good_. I have a whole week off before classes start again.”

“Good choice, blue looks fucking good on me. Anything fun planned?” The apartment building is within sight now and I walk faster, eager to get away from the cold.

“Honestly? Probably just going to finish my paper-” Adina groans at the other end “so that I can relax once classes start again.” I finish.

“Everything is booked during the break, if I wait ten more days I might actually be able to do something without being squashed by a crowd.”

“Good point. Will we get to see you anything during these ten days?”

“If I stick to my plan the essay should be done on thursday so maybe we could do something in the evening?”

“Done!” She says just as I step inside the building. Judging by the sound of music blaring from every direction, more than one of the neighbours have already started their parties.

“Uuugh, I can't wait to get to Ivar’s place and take a bath.” I groan while waiting for the elevator. Adina scoffs, making me regret my choice of words.

“ _ Ivar’s place _ ? Allvarligt?”

“Adina, you know that this isn’t easy.” I’ve tried to make her and Elin understand but, like my relationship with Ivar, it’s proven to be difficult.

“Just tell him that you want to move in.”

“I’m not so sure he wants me to.”

“Of course he does! I’ve seen how cranky he gets whenever you're apart.”

“Adina-”

“Is this about Ubbe? Because he can fu-” I interrupt her before she can get any further into a topic that I really don’t feel like discussing right now.

“I have to go, Adina. Gonna take that bath and change out of these sweats.” She falls silent. Finally, she sighs.

“Okay. Take care.”

“You too.” I murmur. We hang up and I stick a hand in the pocket of my sweatpants, digging around until I find the key. The TV is on but as soon as he hears me call out that I’m home it goes silent. I peek inside the kitchen on my way to the living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of what I’ll get for dinner. There’s a basket of bread on the counter and I grab one, scarfing it down while continuing down the hallway.

“Hi, how-” I pause at the sight of an opened wine bottle. Ivar smiles at me, showing a row of even teeth stained red. He curls his fingers in a beckoning motion.

“Sätt dig.” I drop my bag on the floor and sit down next to him, plucking at the sleeves of my sweatshirt. Ivar clicks his tongue.

“Not there.” My eyes must be as wide as saucers. Ivar’s arms make their way around my waist. He squeezes once and I fail miserably at holding back a whimper; his eyes glitter at the sound. Ivar begins to tug at me and I comply without any hesitation, settling in his lap. The internal voice warning me that this is a bad idea is far too easy to ignore as Ivar’s hands knead at my waist, his blown out eyes wandering over every inch of me. I’m so caught up observing the way he’s looking at me that he has to deliver a slap to my ass for me to hear what he is saying.

“Take it off.” Ivar balls up the front of my sweatshirt, showing what he means. The slap hasn’t exactly made me any less willing and so the shirt lands on the floor within a couple of seconds. I wish there was something prettier than a washed out camisole under it but Ivar doesn’t seem to mind; his palms are smoothing over the fabric covering my tummy in circular motions. Ivar flips us over and I end up with my back pressed into the seat cushions. He’s already repositioning between my legs, tugging at the waistband of my sweatpants and growling something incoherent about ‘lift your ass’. His large palms land on either of my bare thighs and he immediately lets out a hiss.

“Fuck, you're cold.” I blush a little, ready to apologize when he stops me in my tracks by rubbing over my thighs.

“Need me to warm you, sötnos?” He half-purrs, half-slurs.

“Ye-yes.” I whisper. Ivar presses his nose into the crotch of my panties, making me squeal and jerk my hips up. Retreating just a little, he lets his tongue work in long strokes over the cotton and if I had been just a little more clear headed I might have been embarrassed at the wanton sounds he pulls out of me. Ivar mouths at the underwear until they are utterly soaked then relieves me of them in one pull. I clutch at my camisole as if it can change the fact that my sex is now laid completely bare. One hand rushes up the length of me and takes a firm grip on my breast, squeezing until I let out the most unladylike grunt I’ve ever heard. Ivar’s hand retreats and I’m on the verge of begging him to continue when the fingers disappear into his mouth. My mouth falls open at the sight of him lathering at his digits. He releases them with a wet plop then thrusts two of them inside me so suddenly that I shout and twitch underneath him. They move in and out, pausing to curl somewhat clumsily at first. Once he’s found a more even pace he leans down to rub his cheeks against my stomach, the feeling of stubble on my skin making me blush and reach down to grasp at Ivar’s thick mop of hair. It’s been nearly nine months since the last time I had sex and all of the frustration that Ivar causes me quickly has me building towards an orgasm. My hips roll with more and more force to meet his movements until my muscles tighten around the thick digits, moaning softly. I’m still feeling light headed when Ivar grabs me under my armpits and drags me towards him, simultaneously leaning backwards so that he is propped up against the armrest. He guides my hands to the waistline of his jeans. I feel myself breathing quicker and quicker as I fumble with the zip but eventually it gives way, revealing his bulge under the black boxer briefs as he helps me tug the jeans down to his knees. Ivar secures a tight grip at the back of my neck and tugs hard enough for my chin to brush against the outline of his length. The black cotton gets yanked down too, joining his jeans. I crane my neck to suckle at the tip of his half-erect cock, again ignoring the voice screaming about what happened the last time we tried to have sex. He holds me in place as I lave at him and work one hand around the bottom of his shaft. His hands are greedy, tangling in my hair and scraping at my back while he lets out loud grunts. A new wave of slick rushes to my core at the feeling of him growing in my mouth, but...eventually I find myself in the same situation as the night we first met; trying my hardest to get him ready and failing miserably. I squeeze my eyes shut and take more of him into my mouth, desperately sucking at everything I can reach. His hands have fallen to the side, no longer tugging and urging me on. There’s a string of saliva still connecting us as I give up and release his cock. Sitting up, I gently cup Ivar’s face. My fingers brush over the stubble.

“Ivar-” He twists out of my grip.

“Get away from me.” Ivar swings his legs over the edge of the couch and tugs his boxers back up. I try to reach for him but he acts as if he can’t even see my outreached hand. The door slams shut behind him as he disappears into his room.  _ Shit _ . Some part of my mind tries to urge me into getting up and put at least my underwear back on but I can't bring myself to do it.  _ Shit _ . Somehow I find one of the blankets, curling up under it.  _ Shit _ . A shiver runs down my spine, teeth clattering against each other. I clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whining.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sudden pain flares through my shoulder, rousing me from my worried sleep. Someone is holding onto me, shaking me like a ragdoll, and I squirm to get free before my mother can do any more damage. A familiar voice hisses at me.

“What the hell happened here?” Not my mother. I open my eyes to find Ubbe towering above me, his free hand waving in the direction of the empty wine bottle and the discarded clothes.

“He got drunk.” I sniffle. _Looks_ _like_ _you_ _did_ _too_.

“He’s not supposed to drink!” I finally manage to free myself from Ubbe and give him a pointed glare, pulling at the strap that’s slipped off my shoulder.

“According to the doctor, or according to you?” Ubbe’s eyes instantly darkens and I feel myself cowering as he straightens his back. When he speaks again, his voice is ice cold and I shrink even further into the couch.

“You’re just another korkad fitta, aren’t you?” Ubbe stumbles out of the living room, reaching a hand out to support himself against the wall as he opens the bedroom door. My heart pounds as I get dressed then creep into the hallway to find my phone in the coat pocket. I’m close to giving up and just calling for a cab when Elin finally answers.

“Helloooo,” She says in a chirpy tone “happy new year, hun.”

“You’re the designated driver tonight, right?” I ask, already throwing things in my bag.

“What happened?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Give me 30 minutes.” Tiptoeing around the apartment to avoid being detected, I gather as many of my belongings as I can. Having found everything that isn’t inside the bedroom, I lock the front door behind me and return the key though the mail slot. 25 minutes later Elin’s car pulls into the parking lot and I run outside. Adina sits in the backseat, spreading her arms and cooing at me in a slurred voice.

“C’mere, kochanie.” I scoot as close to her as possible, resting my head against her shoulder while Elin spits out a string of profanities about _these_ _fucking_ _Ragnarssons_.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Another missed call from Ivar. I throw my phone back into my purse and continue changing out of my work uniform. Boy is persistent, have to give him that; every day there’s been at least four missed calls and usually a text or two as well. I keep my head down to shield it from the wind, not noticing the lanky man before we crash into each other. 

“Fredrika.” Floki murmurs, craning his neck down to look at me.

“Hi.” I say, taking a step back. He’s just staring at me. His face is pulled into some strange grimace that I can’t interpret.

“Just got off my shift. Been a long day.” I finally say, trying to convey that I’m on my way home and don’t have time to chat.

“You must be starving then. Let me buy you some dinner.” I hesitate. All my attempts at talking to Elin and Adina about Ivar have ended with them overtaking the conversation, spitting out advice without even listening to what I’m saying. Floki at least knows Ivar, might be able to explain what is happening. I nod in agreement and he guides me to a café. I find us a table and a few minutes later he returns with coffee and two slices of pie; somehow he’s managed to order my favourite. Floki sets to shuffling food into his mouth, not uttering a word until half of it is gone.

“He’s really sorry for what happened.” I sigh and poke at the side salad.

“He told you.” Floki grimaces again at my statement.

“I stopped by the day after to drop off some books he wanted to borrow. Found him and Ubbe taking turns vomiting, you were nowhere to be seen. Figured something had happened.” I grasp tightly at the coffee cup, taking a long sip. 

“I know you had, well…” Floki’s voice fades away and his cheeks are tinted red, something that I can feel my own face immediately copy.

“No, i-it’s not that. I’m not mad at Ivar.” The cup spins round and round in my hands, dangerously close to spilling. Floki tilts his head, staring even more intently than before.

“What did he do?”

“I’ve already told you, I’m not mad at Iv-”

“Not Ivar” Floki growls “Ubbe.” I squeeze my eyes shut, chewing frantically at my lip. When I open them again the carpenter is leaning forward on his elbows. Judging by the look of him, he will pull the truth of me if I don’t give it willingly. The words come pouring out.

“He was so angry, grabbed me and called me a dumb cunt.” Floki bares his teeth, neck cracking as he twists it to the side.

“At first he never wanted me to leave Ivar’s side and now it’s like he’s pissed that I’m always there,” I pause to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand “Nothing I do is good enough. And now I’ve disappointed Ivar too.”

“Why didn’t you tell Helga?” I have to force back a bitter laugh. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it but in the end, Ivar is _their_ _kid_ and I’m the stranger.

“She’s known them since they were born. Do you really think she would take my side?”

“Yes,” He answers without hesitation “She’s always been the stricter parent.”

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A warning pops up on the screen, alerting me that my laptop is running low on battery. I’ve just found the charger and plugged it in when the doorbell rings. I grab Elin’s keys from the side table, ready to make a snarky comment about how scatter brained she is. I open the door then freeze. Ivar is tucked into his navy blue jacket, black gloves covering his hands. It’s been nearly a week since I took off in the middle of the night but only a day since Floki bought me dinner; I haven’t made up my mind yet about how to handle this. Ivar looks tired.

“I brought your t-shirt.” He says, making an awkward attempt at a smile. I snatch it from his hands and mutter a barely audible ‘thank you’. Ivar leans against the door frame, making it impossible for me to close it. Not that I would even if I could. 

“We need to talk.” I step back and let him inside.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I screwed up, scared you away. I’ve never been able to handle alcohol.” He picks at a loose thread on my bedspread for a few seconds. Ivar opens his mouth then promptly closes it again, looking as if whatever he’s about to say equires a great deal of energy from him. When he speaks the words come out in a blur.

“It was a drunken mistake and nothing more. I used you and I’m sorry for that.” My jaw drops and it takes me a good ten seconds before I can speak. I want to scream at him that he’s a selfish bastard for waiting six months to tell me that he’s not interested, that a ‘sorry’ isn’t enough to make up for everything we’ve been through since last summer. I’ve shared a bed with him, held his hand at family gatherings, coaxed him into taking his meds and endured his brothers. Instead of screaming I bite my tongue at the last second and berate myself; Ivar doesn’t owe me a relationship, certainly not a romantic one. My brain goes into overdrive, scrambling for something to say to break the silence. Eventually I just blurt out something.

“Ivar, I let you watch-” I interrupt myself, blushing at the memories of Ivar panting in my ear while I touch myself. Even from behind the curtain of hair I can see the way his jaw tenses.

“I don't need to be pitied, or treated like a child. I just miss my friend so can I please have her back?” My heart sinks. His friend, that’s all I am. Everything he’s asked of me has been some sort of test to see just how deep my pity for him goes.

“Yeah, of course,” I say even though it feels like a weight is settling over my chest “I miss my friend too.”

“Good.” He seems to hesitate for a second then reaches for my hand, enveloping it in his much bigger one. I wish he hadn’t done that. Still, I return his faint smile and will myself to be happy that we have defined our relationship. It’s better than the emotional rollercoaster that the past few months have been, it has to be. Otherwise I don’t know what I will do.

“I should get going.” He steps outside and turns to say goodbye but I hurry to speak before him.

“I’m not coming to visit until Friday. Need to work on my paper.” He furrows his brow but I stand my ground, refusing to cave and tell him that I’ll come back to his apartment right now. I feel prouder than reasonable at this seemingly small achievement.

“See you Friday then.”

  
  


  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So, what do you say?” Jonathan looks at me expectantly. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that someone’s asked me out for Valentine’s; when’s the last time that happened? I haven’t exactly paraded myself on the market in the last couple of years.

“Sorry, I’m out of town then. My cousin’s having her möhippa so...” Jonathan smiles and nods in understanding. His kindness isn’t making this any easier.

“Ok. Another time then, maybe?”

“Maybe.” I say, returning the smile but knowing damn well that he’s probably never going to get that date. I have screwed up my chance at a relationship with someone I actually care about and knowing me there’s another couple of years of single life ahead. Jonathan's voice snaps me out of my self-pitying thoughts.

“Oh and by the way; good job on the paper!”

“Thanks.” I answer.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


The last two months have been manageable but I’m still looking forward to going away with Adina and Elin for our own version of sportlov. The water begins to boil and I pour it into the waiting cups. Knowing for certain that Ivar and I are nothing more than friends has made things slightly easier but it would be a lie to say that I’m not struggling. Ubbe’s voice comes soaring from further down the corridor.

“I’ve met a girl at work, she just got an internship at the legal department.” He tells Ivar, who only hums in response. I take the sandwiches and place them on the tray.

“Very pretty. Obviously smart since she got into law school.” Ubbe continues while I dig around for teaspoons. The snack tray is ready and I carefully balance it towards the living room.

“Good, time you move on.” Ivar sounds genuinely happy and I’m already smiling at the thought of Ubbe becoming less suffocating if he has someone else to focus his attention on.

“Actually, I am thinking about giving her your number, Ivar.” I stop so suddenly that some of the tea spills. There’s a long silence before Ubbe sighs and speaks again.

“You and Fredrika are just friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then. Her name is Sara. She's free this friday.” Does he know that I can hear them? For all of his flaws, Ubbe is not stupid. He has to know. At least they’ve stopped talking now. Pulling myself together, I will my legs to start moving again. I’m just outside the living room when Ubbe deals the final blow.

“Oh, I suggest that you don’t tell her you're sharing a bed with another girl. Though if things go right you might have a new one in there soon, right?” He chuckles. It’s a punch to the stomach and I feel my body try to curl in on itself, knuckles going white as I grasp tighter at the tray.

“Fredrika?” Ivar has noticed me. Looking up, I see his entire face turning an alarming shade of red. I turn to Ubbe, too far gone in my anger to hold it back anymore.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I croak. Some small part of me is ashamed of acting like this in front of Ivar, like some silly little girl with a crush on someone that has already made it clear the the feelings are not mutual.

“I’m helping my brother find a date. I don’t expect you to understand such things, being an only child.” I laugh bitterly at that and step forward to slam the tray down on the table.

“I’ll make sure to warn Sara that she’s getting involved with a fucking psycho.” With that I turn on my heel and stomp out off the apartment, ignoring Ivar’s confused sputtering.

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I should have taken my jacket or at the very least my shoes; I’m already shivering as large, wet snowflakes land on and around me. Familiar footsteps approach me and I lock my arms even tighter around myself. Ivar sinks down next to me on the bench.

“Hi.” He tries, not getting any response from me.

“Ubbe is spending the night at Hvitserk’s place.” I already know that, saw his car pull out of the parking lot a few minutes after I ran outside. Ivar waits for me to answer, but when I still stay silent he continues.

“Can we go back inside? It’s kind of freezing out here.” Ivar’s hand brushes away some of the wet strands from my face and it takes all I have not to lean into his warm palm. I have to go back inside if I’m to get my phone. My stubbornness has me sitting there for another couple of minutes before I rise and begin to shuffle towards the entrance, Ivar silently trailing behind me. Once we’re back in the living room I begin to search for my phone. I find it on the table but before I can reach it Ivar is standing next to me, chewing his lips almost as fervently as I do.

“I’m sorry.” He says but it comes out more like a question, like seeing me react to Ubbe’s words still wasn’t enough for him to grasp just how badly hurt I am or why. It all becomes too much for me. Tears begin to run down my cheeks. Fingers brush against my arm but I’m quick to move out of his reach.

“Don’t touch me.” I stride across the room to the balcony door and wipe my eyes. 

“I’m sick of getting my hopes up,” I gesture over my shoulder in the direction of the table “Just give me my phone so I can call a cab.” 

“Fredrika-” 

“Don’t.” Ivar sighs and his cane clicks against the floor. A few seconds later he places the phone in my upturned palm. My fingers are still freezing and I fumble as I try to unlock it.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Ubbe but-” Ivar starts. I fail to type the code for the third time and curse out loud, interrupting him. I whip my head around to look him in the eyes.

“You want to know what happened? He started blaming me for everything. That soda Helga bought you for Christmas; he found the bottle and went off on me about how it would ruin your teeth. When you got drunk on New Year's eve and fucked me right on that couch, not because you care about me but because you were drunk, he woke me up in the middle of the night. He said I was just another dumb cunt.  _ Another _ . Makes me wonder how many other girls you two have pulled into this madhouse. This whole thing must give you a lot of sympathy points, huh? Lots of girls that wants to sleep with the sad, pretty boy with the big blue eyes.” I pause to breathe and Ivar pipes up in a small voice.

“I don’t want pity.” His words make me scoff.

“Yeah, sure.” I increase the distance between us again and continue to fumble with my phone. Scrolling through my contact list, I find what I’m looking for and press dial.

“I was stupid enough to think that you might actually care about me and not just be on the hunt for a sad little project.” Ivar says coldly. I look up to see his entire body is tense, eyes narrowed and bottom lip trembling.

“But I do care!” I shout just as someone picks up at the other end and I hurry to say it was a misdial, hanging up before they can get another word out.

“Why do you think I have stuck around for eight months; endured all the shit that your family has given me?” Ivar shakes his head, still not believing a word out of my mouth.

“You’ve never tried to touch me again, only when I was having my episode then you started pulling away again like I was disgusting. Started touching yourself instead because you couldn’t bare the thought of my own hands actually being on you. Fantasy is better than reality.”

“Ivar, no. I didn’t think you wanted me to touch you. I thought-” I swallow hard, blushing a little at my own words “Thought I made you uncomfortable when I was taking care of you so I waited for you to show that you wanted me.” The gears in his head must be working at full speed judging by the way he’s staring at me.

“You kissed me at the Halloween party when I was sad. Why did you do that?” He finally blurts out.

“Because you were my boyfriend and you were sad. I wanted to comfort you, like any normal person would. Did you think I'd just sit there and watch you feel bad?" While he mulls over my answer I step closer.

“Why do you think I snapped at Ubbe?” I ask, so close that we’re almost touching. The warmth that I’m lacking comes radiating off his body and my hand smoothes over his upper arm. He’s not moving, maybe even holding his breath.

“I don’t want to stick around and see you fall in love with someone else. I wish I could be a better friend, more supportive, but seeing you with Sara...I can’t do that. So if you decide to go on that date with her, please tell me and I’ll make sure not to get in your way.” Ivar lets out the breath he’s been holding in and I steel myself to hear his rejection. Suddenly I’m pulled flush against his chest, his free arm bringing me in and holding me there.

“Tell you what?” He murmurs against the top of my head “I don’t go out with Sara and you don’t go out with Jonathan.” I stare up at him, too shocked at hearing that he knows about Jonathan to really register that he will turn Sara down.

“How did you-”

“Hvitserk is very fond of gossip, he has ears everywhere.” Ivar says. I snuggle up closer against his hoodie.

“He has bad sources. I haven’t said yes to Jonathan.” I feel him relax at my words and he cranes his neck down to plant kisses along the side of my head.

“A real date then? This weekend?” I finally ask, hoping that I didn’t misunderstand.

“I’d like that, and I’ll talk to Ubbe.” I sigh with relief. He tucks my wet hair behind my ears. 

“You’re freezing. Go take a shower and then we can go to bed.” I free myself from his embrace and shake my head.

“I want to go home.” Ivar bites his lip, looking down at me.

“Kind of getting mixed signals over here.” He says in a weary tone. I sniffle, smiling a little at him.

“I want you to come with me.”

“Oh.” His face lights up again. I pick at the sleeve of my shirt.

“I like your apartment but after everything that happened here tonight, I kind of miss my own bed. And I miss talking with my friends at the breakfast table.” Ivar nods.

“Okay,” He steps closer and places a hand at the small of my back “Do I have to sleep on the floor this time too?” I roll my eyes at him.

“That was your own decision.”

“I was being a gentleman.” Ivar tugs at me and I step into his arms again, tilting my head up to find his lips. I think it’s the first kiss we’ve shared that feels completely relaxed. That first night it was so urgent, fueled by the anger his brothers caused us both and by his need to prove himself. On Halloween it was a different kind of urgent, me desperately trying to soothe him. Then came all those shy kisses where our lips barely brushed against each other. Now we relax in each other's arms and as I feel Ivar smile I can’t help but do it back. When we pull apart to breathe there’s still a big stupid grin on my face and on Ivar’s too. The emotional turmoil of the past eight months is finally resolved, at least the worst of it. Somewhere at the back of my head I know that we still have to deal with Ubbe, that I’ll have to tell him how scared I was when I woke up that night; but that seems like such a small matter right now. We take one look at each other then break into a fit of giggles; I don’t think Ivar has ever looked nearly as beautiful as he does right now. Finally, we manage to pull ourselves together and Ivar steals another kiss as he points at my phone.

“Call a cab, I’ll pack our things."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> Till Floki och Helga, menar jag - To Floki and Helga, I mean  
> God jul - Merry Christmas  
> Till Floki - To Floki  
> Förstår du? - Do you understand?  
> Glögg - Mulled wine that comes in both alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions. Every year a company called Blossa releases a new taste  
> Julmust - A type of soda that we drink at Christmas, Coca-cola isn't the typical Christmas drink in Sweden  
> Saffran - Saffron  
> Gubbe - Old man  
> Pojkslyngel - Rascal  
> Kalle Anka - Donald Duck. Every year at 3 pm a series of short films featuring Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse and Santa's workshop are shown on TV and it's a pretty damn important tradition in Sweden.  
> Skål - Cheers  
> Ramlösa - A brand of carbonated water  
> Gott nytt år - Happy new year  
> Allvarligt? - Seriously?  
> Sätt dig - Sit down  
> Sötnos - Sweetheart  
> Korkad fitta - Dumb cunt  
> Kochanie - A Polish term of endearment that might be used by close friends (I don't actually speak any polish, this is what google and a language forum told me)  
> Möhippa - Bridal shower  
> Sportlov - A break from school that's usually around the beginning of March, a lot of families use it to go skiing for example. This isn't really a thing at university, it's more for teenagers and younger kids
> 
> SONGS
> 
>  
> 
> Staffan var en stalledräng
> 
>  
> 
> Tänd ett ljus
> 
>  
> 
> Hej Tomtegubbar


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6/7. Yes, I said that this would be the last chapter but I think we can all agree that I am terrible at sticking to what I say :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER RATING: Mature
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: So much sexual tension it’s not even funny, a little bit smut but nothing too explicit, fluff, family drama, screaming, major violation of privacy, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced addiction, implied/referenced sexual advances on minors, implied/referenced loss of family member

Ivar closes the door behind us. Adina and Elin are already poking their heads out of the living room and I don’t miss the wary look they give him.

“What are you two doing here?” Elin asks. I shake my head, a warmth still flickering in my chest from the way Ivar looked at me during the entire ride here.

“Long story. I really need a shower first.” Shrugging off the blanket Ivar gave me in the cab, I turn to him.

“Why don’t you just go put the bag in my room?” He nods and leans down to kiss me. As our lips meet, I hear Adina gasp behind us and Ivar pulls away from me almost immediately.

“I’m just going to-umm, yeah.” He murmurs before pushing past them. I have half a mind to scold my friends for scaring him away but I’m still lightheaded from everything that has happened in just a matter of hours. Elin clears her throat, catching my attention just as we can hear my bedroom door close. Her brow is creased.

“Are you sure about this?” She asks.

“It’s okay. I promise I will explain.” Adina barks out a laughter.

“Det är bäst för er det. I’m going to need some convincing not to throw him outside right now.” Her tone has me tensing and I feel my hackles rising.

“And I will. Just...a lot of things happened tonight and I really need you guys to give me a minute, let me clear my head-” Elin interrupts me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“We’re worried about you.” It’s probably meant to be soothing but all I feel is talked down to. It tips me over the edge.

“Don’t be!” I snap. They flinch at my loud words and some part of me feels guilty but the switch inside my head has already flicked.

“Can’t you just be happy that I’m happy? Helvete, allt jag ber om är några minuter, can’t I even have that?” My voice cracks at the last word. I barely have time to blink before my friends are surrounding me, speaking softly. Elin cups my face in her hands and Adina rests an arm around my waist.

“Hey, we’re sorry.” Adina whispers into my ear while Elin nods in agreement.

“Take all the time you need, vännen.” She assures me. I sniffle, halfway between smiling and sobbing.

“It’s been a really long evening.” I murmur. My friends hold me like this for another few seconds before nudging me towards the bathroom.

 

At first the warm water helps me relax as it takes away the chill and cleans my face, still puffy and carrying traces of smeared make-up. But as my mind is cleared the joy begins to fade and without Ivar there to help stoke the fire I’m soon back to worrying at my lip. What about Ubbe? My breathing is already growing shallow just by the thought of it. What about his entire family? _It’s okay_. I turn the heat up as far as it can go, the water almost scalding now. _It’s going to be okay_. Without even realizing it, I’ve started humming a familiar tune. I can practically hear morfar chuckling at me. _Min käraste Fredrika, how many times did we watch Episode IV together?_ More times than I could count. I feel a stab of guilt that I haven't visited his grave in almost month. I’ve been so busy. By the time I’ve hummed my way through another 8 or so songs from the A New Hope soundtrack, my breathing has returned to normal and I’ve convinced myself that I need to talk to Ivar tonight. Before we go any further.

 

I find Ivar perched on top of my bed, fingers tightly wound together.

“What’s on your mind?” He gives me a once over before answering.

“How good that hoodie looks on you-” The corners of his mouth twitch into a grimace “-and that your friends are mad at me. Can’t really blame them.”

“They’ll come around.” I assure him. I sit down on the bed, curling up against his side. He seems stunned by the closeness but he’s quick to compose himself and snakes an arm over my shoulder. How do I bring this up? As if it isn’t already hard enough to find the words, Ivar finds a strand of my hair and twirls it between his fingers. He takes a whiff of it. A sound similar to a purr leaves him.

“Smells nice.” He murmurs against the top of my head but an inaudible squeal is all the answer he gets. It’s a little embarrassing how good he is a making me give up the most undignified noises. Ivar tugs me closer, using a finger to tilt my head up for a kiss. I only let our lips brush against each other before squirming away and gesturing vaguely at the door.

“Though they will definitely want an explanation.” Ivar hums in agreement but he's already zooming out of our conversation, trying to coax me into another kiss. I twist out of his grip and blurt out the words before he can ask me what’s wrong.

“We need to talk to your brother.” There’s a flash of something in his eyes but it’s gone before I’m even sure it’s real.

“Which one?” He says jokingly. I lean away from him, shaking my head. He has to know he can’t just joke about this. Ivar immediately becomes serious and he hurries to nod in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. Ubbe can be-” He interrupts himself to pull a face. Satisfied that Ivar agrees that we can’t just pretend as if the issues with his family doesn’t exist, I kiss his nose to show that I’m not angry at him. My arms snake over Ivar’s shoulders, the muscles outlined under a black t-shirt now that he's discarded the hoodie, and I let myself tip forward to nuzzle at his neck. He gives up a content noise. It would be nice to just stay like this, in the safety of my bedroom. I’m thinking about asking Ivar if we can’t just go to bed when he breaks the silence.

“What happened after I went to bed that night?” I tense in his grip and Ivar immediately makes some noise that I assume is meant to soothe me. He should know, I want him to understand. Leaning back, I take a deep breath and will myself to meet his gaze.

“After you- after you left, I fell asleep on the couch. Then when he came home he-” I try to swallow the lump in my throat “-he grabbed me...like this.” I rest one hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“I thought it was my mom.” Ivar’s face falls, he’s only heard about the drinking. He rests his forehead against mine.

“Min älskade Fredrika. I’m so sorry.” There’s a sound like a dying animal and it takes me a second to realize that it's me. Ivar’s hands run up my arms to land at either side of my face. The tip of his nose brushes against mine, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin. This time I don't hesitate to seek out Ivar’s lips and he gasps before beginning to move with me. They feel even softer now, I don’t know how that's possible but they do. The thought of Elin and Adina waiting for us, for an explanation of what is going on, is pushed aside. Ivar is just so soothing and he’s everything I want right now. I’ll allow myself to be selfish this time, to be the bad friend. His fingers weave their way into my wet hair, tugging at it until we reluctantly break apart to breathe.

“You’re so warm, hjärtat.” Ivar croons. I slip a hand under his t-shirt, dragging my nails over the toned muscles there.

“Maybe you should hop in the shower too.” That suggestion of course has nothing to do with me hoping to have a warm Ivar, wet hair hanging loosely, next to me in bed.

“I’d rather have you warm me.” He answers, not missing a beat. Something that’s halfway between a snort and a giggle leaves me and Ivar immediately turns as red as a firetruck.

“Not- not that I assume anything’s going to happen tonight I just-” He begins to babble but shuts up again once my lips press against his temple. Ivar sighs softly.

“It’s been eight really strange months.” He murmurs, sounding somewhat guilty. I can only nod in agreement.

“Yeah.” Ivar looks at me from under long lashes. He’s chewing his bottom lip so intently that I’m starting to think he needs to be shaken out of it. Before I can do anything, Ivar releases his lip with a plop.

“Come here.” I can tell from his tone that it's a question, one that I’m happy to say yes to. We meld into another kiss, slowly finding a pace that we’re comfortable with. My tongue wanders along the seam of his lips, trying to find a way in which he grants me. Ivar must be feeling bold because the second my tongue slips inside he nips at it. I moan into his mouth and my hips move of their own accord. Ivar twitches under me, kiss momentarily breaking as he lets out a groan.

“Shii-it. Gör det där igen.” I roll my hips, deeper this time, eliciting another groan. He buries his face at my neck and sinks his teeth into the skin there. With every movement he gradually loses control over his volume; growing louder and louder until I’m certain we’re putting on quite the show for my friends. Ivar grabs at my hips, starting to flip us over. Then someone bangs at the door. Ivar goes completely still and I hear him squeal in what I can only assume is terror. There’s a flurry of limbs as we try to detangle ourselves but Adina doesn’t give us anywhere near the time needed to accomplish that before bursting inside my bedroom. She freezes mid step. Ivar still has his hands up my hoodie and we’re both still panting; I can’t remember the last time I saw Adina look so furious.

“Kitchen. Now.” She hisses before turning on her heel and storming back out. Knowing that there's no escaping Elin and Adina’s questions, I slip out of Ivar’s grip then smooth my hair as best as I can and adjust my clothes. Peeking over my shoulder, Ivar looks like he’s considering hiding under the bed.

“Should I be worried that she might stab me?” He asks. I lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’d rather take a stabbing than be on the receiving end of her ‘you’ve disappointed me-look’.” My words don’t ease Ivar’s mind in the slightest.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ivar’s gaze flickers back and forth between the couch and the two armchairs. He looks even worse than I feel, skin clammy and eyes erratic, like he might throw up from nervousness.

“What’s wrong?” Ivar turns to me.

“If I sit with you Ubbe will feel ganged up on and if I sit with Ubbe it will look like I’m taking his side. I care for both of you.” He finally answers in a whisper. My heart beats faster at the thought of Ivar being so careful not to hurt me.

“Then sit by yourself. You are the mediator after all.” I move one of the armchairs so that it stands separately from both the couch and the other armchair. Ivar sits down, grunting a little as he shifts in the seat, then reaches for my hand. We sit in silence while waiting for Ubbe to show up, Ivar’s thumb rubbing circles into the back of my hand. When the doorbell rings, I’m surprised to find that it doesn’t trigger the expected wave of nausea. I just feel exhausted. Exhausted and maybe a bit relieved that we’re finally getting to this. Ivar gets up to let Ubbe in. I’m actually pleasantly surprised that Ubbe didn’t just use his key to let himself in; maybe he has learned a thing or two about privacy. They’re whispering about something in the hallway but I force myself to stay put and wait. Eventually they make their way into the living room. While Ivar offers a reassuring smile, one that I try to return, Ubbe’s face looks like it’s been carved from stone. They settle into the armchairs. Ivar opens his mouth to speak.

“We need to-” He doesn’t make it further than that before I cut him off.

“Why do you hate me?” I blurt out. Nice one, Fredrika. The damage is already done so I force myself not to falter, keeping eye contact with Ubbe.

“I don’t-” Ubbe takes out his lighter and begins to play with it, turning it on and off in rapid succession ”-it’s complicated.”

“Ubbe.” Ivar begs. Ubbe grumbles but he puts the lighter away again, then leans forward with his elbows on his legs.

“You have to understand, Fredrika, that Ivar has money. He has a last name that’s well known not only in Scandinavia or in Europe, but in most of the world.” Ivar suddenly becomes very interested in his feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, as if it isn’t obvious where he’s heading with this. Ubbe rubs his eyes with his palms. He looks at Ivar before turning to face me again.

“Do you think you’re the first person to come into our lives and act as if you’ve never heard of us? Act as if you’re only with us out of love? Now I don’t mean to offend you but-”

“If you don’t want to offend me maybe it’s best that you don’t finish that sentence.” I interrupt him. From the corner of my eye, I can see Ivar begin to twirl his cane in his hands. There’s not much mediating happening for him but maybe that’s for the best; some things just need to be said.Ubbe sighs.

“But,” He starts again “you fit into the profile very well. Low income, no family to go to. Then you just happen to run into the sons of Ragnar on a night out. We almost stopped going to clubs together because of that.” He leans back in the armchair, shaking his head as if in disbelief at what people would do to get to them.

“It was manageable when it was just me and Hvitserk going out because everyone knew I was married and that Hvitserk would never settle down with anyone. But the second that Sigurd and Ivar came of age people were like piranhas. Hell, Sigurd was still a minor the first time he started getting love letters from women 15 years older than him. I remember when some British weapons manufacturer tried to arrange a marriage between his goddaughter and Sigurd; the girl had just turned 17 and lost her parents.” My jaw drops in shock. I try to make eye contact with Ivar but he is still studying his feet. Every fiber of my being hurt at the thought of him as a sickly teenager being hunted by greedy people wanting a part of his inheritance.

“I have to protect Ivar because in case you haven’t noticed: no one else does.” Ubbe says quietly. I turn back around to stare at Ubbe.

“I do. Floki and Helga do,” Ubbe tries to say something but I raise my voice ”and that still doesn’t explain why you liked me at first and then just did a complete 180 turn.”

“You seemed genuine at first. Most girls wouldn’t go through the trouble that you did, they’d have moved on to someone else. And-” Ubbe clears his throat “I’m not proud to admit this you have to understand that, but I was caught up in my own shit when we all first met. So I sort of figured that even if you were just- just a…”

“A golddigger?” I fill in in a curt tone. Ubbe glances at his little brother before finishing the sentence.

“...you might still be good to have around for a couple of weeks.” Ivar gives up the most heartbreaking noise and both Ubbe and me reach for him at once. Ivar accepts my outreached hand and squeezes it tightly in his own, ignoring his brother. Ubbe settles back in his armchair. He tries to keep a neutral face but I see the way his lips quiver.

“Then I looked you up,” He continues “saw your family’s history. Figured that maybe you wanted money to go find your mom or that you were falling into the same addiction as them and needed cash to feed it.” I’m not sure what angers me more; that he assumes I’m going to turn out just like my parents or the complete violation of privacy. Ivar has settled down some and he’s finally lifting his gaze from the floor. Ubbe reaches his hand out again and this time Ivar allows him to rest it on his arm.

“I probably seem like the world’s shittiest person to you but everything I’ve done has been to keep min lillebror safe.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The alarm goes off and as I wake up, I feel Ivar stir behind me in bed. A few seconds later he squeezes my ass through the shorts. His hands don’t stay there for long, instead disappearing up my t-shirt to rub circles into my stomach. Finally they land in my hair, twirling and tugging at the tresses.

“God morgon.” He purrs into my ear. I turn to face him and curl up close against his chest. His calloused fingers rub at the back of my neck.

“I like waking up next to you.” I admit in a whisper. Ivar’s grip on me tightens.

“It’s nice having you here. I really missed you after New Year’s, and every time you went back to the house, or were out of town.” I smile against his collarbone.

“What if I move in?” He stops and my heart plummets. I’ve messed up again.

“You actually want that?” Ivar asks.

“Yes,” I answer “but I don’t expect an answer right away. Take all the time you need.” Ivar only hums in response and I feel myself shrink in his arms. Stupid girl. I’m considering escaping from his grip and running away to hide in the bathroom when he speaks again.

“Do you think we’ll need a new cabinet for the bathroom?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Harald pauses, shooting me a crooked smile as he passes me on his way out of Ubbe’s office.

“Hello, Fredrika. Det var länge sen.” One of my hands automatically go up to rub at the nape of my neck.

“University’s keeping me busy.” I answer him. The vague answer seems to satisfy him.

“Attagirl, He booms “not letting boys cloud your judgement.” Harald raises a hand and even though I’m 90% sure that he just means to pat me on the shoulder I flinch. Within the span of just a few seconds Harald manages to display confusion, curiosity and then that sly grin I’ve seen him use when trying to butter up Björn. I don’t even try to come up with an apology. Instead I tighten the grip on my purse and square my shoulders.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with Ubbe.” Harald says something about ‘take care’ as I stomp past him but I don’t return the politeness. Ubbe has one hand on his phone when I enter the office but it falls back to his side as soon as he notices me.

“Hej, Fredrika.” My mouth jerks into a forced smile.

“Am I interrupting something? I thought about calling the secretary but...” But it would have felt a tiny bit awkward having to make an appointment just to talk to my boyfriend’s brother.

“No, it’s fine,” He points at the empty chair that's usually reserved for visiting business partners “Have a seat.” I cross my legs, clutching the purse in my lap.

“Still mad at me?” He asks while rearranging a pile of paper.

“It’s only been eight days, give me some time. That was the agreement.” Ubbe nods in affirmation. He has behaved well so far, staying at Hvitserk’s place so that Ivar and I can have some time to ourselves. As long as he doesn’t fall back into his old behaviour I think we will be able move past this. Remembering the reason I came here, I straighten my back and clear my throat.

“Do you think Ivar misses having a dog?” Ubbe looks up at me.

“I know he does.” I chew my lip while thinking of how to phrase this.

“My cousin knows a breeder, a bit up north. They have good merits, stable psyche. I’m thinking about getting one for him. For us.” Ubbe says nothing. The only sign that he even heard me is the way is his eyebrows rise. I wait another few seconds for him to say something but eventually my patience wears thin.

“Vad är problemet?”

“There’s no problem. I’m just surprised.” Ubbe answers with a shrug.

“Don’t be,” I snap “You know I care about Ivar!” He bows his head down.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He says. The office goes silent again. I play with the button on my purse until Ubbe sighs.

“What can I do to help?” He asks.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The neatly folded towels land in our shopping cart and Ivar nods in approval. He checks of the last box on our shopping list.

“Ready to head to the register?”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I’d like to look at.” I squirm a little as I say it, knowing that what I’m about to suggest wasn’t part of what we agreed to change in the apartment. Ivar gestures for me to go on.

“A new living room table.” I say. Ivar’s stares at me, making me hesitate.

“I know we said we’d keep the old one but…”

“But?” He asks. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

“I’d like for my friends to come over and play every now and then.” I explain. It’s important to me, Ivar knows that, but there’s a big difference between me going away once a week and having a group of people come over to his apartment.

“How often?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“Once or twice a month to start with. Maybe more but only if you feel comfortable with it.” I emphasize the last words. The last thing we need right now is one of us overstepping the other’s boundaries and ruining all of the hard work. To my surprise, Ivar’s face lights up in a smile.

“How big does it need to be?” I find my cellphone and step closer to him. He cranes his neck, stubble tickling my cheek as I show the pictures that I’ve saved.

“I was thinking something like this.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hvitserk slams the door shut as he takes off with another load of cardboard and plastic for the recycling station, finally leaving Ivar and me alone as Ubbe has gone out to buy dinner and my friends have returned home for the night. I think I’m actually going to miss it; no more eating store-bought pizza while listening to my boyfriend mutter about how he could cook something much better, no more of him carefully wrapping an arm around my waist while waiting in line to pay for our new towels. Ivar clears his throat, bringing my attention to him where he’s sitting in the couch and fiddling with the tools.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” He says, eyes never leaving the screwdriver. I sit down next to him and lean against his side. Ivar blushes as I kiss his cheek in an encouraging gesture.

“Almost all of your boxes are here now. The table is set up,” He gestures at the table in front of him “after tomorrow we won’t need anyone to stick around and help anymore.”

“And?” I prod.

“And...since we have the place to ourselves this weekend, I was thinking we could maybe do something, umm, special.”

“Oh.” I’m stuck between being scared that it will end up like last time and being proud that he trusts me enough to want to try.

“I’ll be much nicer to you than I was at New year’s.” Ivar says. I cup his face in my hands, giving him another quick kiss and feeling at the soft stubble.

“That sounds nice.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“We’re coming to pick you up in 30 minutes.” Elin informs me.

“Perfect.” I find my keys and throw them in the purse, my free hand holding the phone to my ear.

“And you better not be late, we’re on a tight schedule today.” She warns, even though I’m much more punctual than her.

“I’m just going to throw on some clothes and I’ll be ready to go.” I reassure her while adjusting the belt of my bathrobe.

“Good. Aleks is coming with us too.” We hang up and I walk to the bedroom to tell Ivar about my friends’ big plans for the day.

“Elin just called, she said-” I freeze. The top drawer is open, all of my underwear on display. Ivar still has one hand on the knob and the other forming a fist around something blue.

“What are you doing?” He looks like a deer caught in headlights. His mouth open and closes, my underwear only tucked halfway into his pocket.

“I’m just, um, a bit stressed about tonight s-so I thought that ‘hey, know what might make me relax?’ And, well, yeah…” Ivar winces as I snatch them from his grip. He’s dug out one of my nicer pairs, the ones that Elin has dubbed ‘time to get dicked down’-panties. This is something new, but I find that I don’t mind the idea of him carrying something of mine with him. Somehow it just makes him seem all the sweeter. Ivar looks as if he wants nothing more than to sink through the floor.

“Take another pair,” I say “I want to wear these today.” I begin to dig through the drawer in search of the matching bra.

“You’re not mad at me?” He pipes up after a long silence.

“Inte det minsta.” I promise.

 

Elin and Adina, along with Adina’s brother, have done their job of keeping me away from the apartment all day while Ivar has prepared everything. I tried to argue, albeit weakly, that since I live there too I should help but really I’m excited to have him spoil me. Ivar has shaved away the stubble and his hair is tucked into the usual bun.

“I like your shirt.” That’s an understatement, he looks like he’s stepped out of some high end fashion magazine. Now I feel extra grateful that Aleks came with us today; I’m not completely oblivious to fashion but I’m clearly not at the same level as the Ragnarssons. Ivar nods at the new addition to my wardrobe.

“Is that a new skirt?”

"Yeah, Adina’s brother helped me pick it out.”

“He has good taste...” His voice trails off and I get the feeling that there’s something else he wants to say. Whatever it is, he opts to keep it to himself.

“So, are you going to let me in?” I ask. Ivar steps to the side and invites me into our apartment.

Nearly two hours later, Ivar gets up to do the finishing touches on the dessert. The sound of him humming to himself while cutting two slices puts a smile on my face. He returns to the table and sets a plate down in front of me. Chocolate cake with lime marinated strawberries, the same thing he baked for our first movie night.

“Ivar Ragnarsson, are you trying to butter me up?” I try to sound playful in spite of the nervousness that’s eating me from the inside. He’s lingering by my side, eyes never leaving me.

“Can’t I take care of my woman?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear then runs a finger down my now very warm cheek.

“Of course you can, it’s-” My breath hitches in my throat as Ivar repeats the movement “-it’s very appreciated.” He returns to his seat, picking up the spoon. I don’t recall ever eating dessert this quickly.

 

Ivar is twirling the cane between his hands again as I sit down next to him after having picked a movie. Tugging at his arm, I get him to let go of the cane and lift his arm so that I can curl up against his side. I’ve just pressed play when he says my name.

“Fredrika, you’re not...expecting any miracles, are you?”

“Ivar-”

“I’m just saying that it’s very unlikely I’m going to get ready for you. Tonight and for however long I’m taking this medicine.” I grasp at his chin to make him look at me.

“I know. It’s okay. Let’s just start the movie first, try to relax a little.” Ivar nods and he leans in to let our noses touch.

 

At the last second, I grab onto the backrest to keep myself from falling out of the couch. Ivar obviously notices this and lifts his head, darkened eyes studying me for any signs of pain.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. This couch isn’t really made for this kind of activity, huh?” I say, holding back a giggle. Ivar ducks his head back down, returning to mouthing at my neck. I squirm to find a more comfortable, and less dangerous, position but find that it is damn near impossible.

“Maybe we should-” I start and Ivar pulls back abruptly, interrupting me.

“Of course. I understand.” My hands form fists around the fabric of his shirt, keeping him in place as I growl playfully at him.

“Will you let me finish the sentence?” Ivar blushes so prettily and he nods for me to continue. I soften my grip, instead smoothing over his shoulders.

“Maybe we should move to the bedroom. More space there, more comfortable.” Ivar lets out a barely audible ‘oh' as he relaxes then nods in agreement. He awkwardly shuffles to his feet then waits for me to take his hand and lead him out of the living room, making a distressed noise as I stumble over the discarded pantyhose. My suddenly clumsy ass manages to make it to the bedroom door without stumbling again and Ivar stays on his feet too. He stops me before I can open it, making me turn to face him.

“Är du säker?” He asks, all the while moving closer.

“Ja,” I answer without hesitation “and you?” There’s barely any space left between us. He cranes his neck, lips ghosting over the top of my head. It feels as if my knees will give out at any second.

“Ja.” He rasps and I suck in a shallow breath. I search for the door handle behind me then open the door and back into the room, still holding Ivar’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> Det är bäst för er det - You better  
> Helvete, allt jag ber om är några minuter - For fucks sake, all I'm asking for is a couple of minutes  
> vännen - (the) friend  
> morfar - maternal grandfather  
> Min käraste - My dearest  
> Min älskade - My beloved  
> hjärtat - (the) heart  
> Gör det där igen - Do that again  
> min lillebror - my little brother  
> God morgon - Good morning  
> Det var länge sen - It's been a long time  
> Hej - Hi  
> Vad är problemet - What's the problem  
> Inte det minsta - Not even slightly  
> Är du säker - Are you sure  
> Ja - Yes


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone that has read this story and the related oneshots, drabbles etc. I am happy to answer questions over on my tumblr (username: anunhealthydoseofangst).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER RATING: Explicit
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluffy smut, explicit smut, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, a little bit of angst, mention of miscarriage, fluff

I squeeze his hand one last time before letting go.

“Could you close the door?” I ask. Ivar complies, reaching behind him for the handle. Meanwhile, I more or less fall backwards onto the bed. It’s as if I can’t stop looking at him, like he might disappear if my eyes focus on something else. When the door clicks shut the reality of what is about to happen suddenly hits me and my fingers twist into the covers, holding it tightly. I have to close my eyes and count to three before feeling relaxed enough to scoot further up and rest against the pillows. When I look up Ivar is staring at me. It looks as if he is trying to assess the odds of me bolting before he has the chance to get on the bed.

“Det är okej,” I hurry to assure him “I’m okay.” Ivar's Adam’s apple bobs violently. He leans his cane against the foot end then perches on the edge. Watching as he crawls on top of me I realize just how tall he is; even compared to average height me. The 20+ centimetres difference now feels like at least the double. He reaches for my cheek and by the slow way he does it one would think I’m some frightened animal.

“Ögonfrans. I’m just going to...” Ivar mumbles, brushing the tiny curved hair away from my cheek. I cover his hand with my own to keep him there for a while and smile up at him to show I’m not afraid. Well, I’m only a little afraid. When I let go, his fingertips begin to play with the hem of my blouse and there’s a long silence as I wait for him to tell me what he wants.

“Can I?” He finally asks, earning an affirmative ‘mhm’ from me. Once the buttons are undone I arch my back of the bed then sit up to help him remove it. Ivar circles the two birthmarks on my stomach with a fingertip, moving further down with each stroke. Soon he dips beneath the waistline of my skirt, slightly inching it down in the process. It tickles and the sudden urge to giggle is held back only by the knowledge that Ivar will be mortified if I laugh right now. There’s no way I’m going to ruin this moment. The skirt dips even further down. Ivar stops and I understand that he must have noticed the scar. It was inevitable but that doesn’t make me any less uncomfortable right now.

“What happened?“ Ivar asks as he brushes a finger along the mark just above my hipbone. My jaw automatically tenses at the memory.

“Mom and dad got in a fight,” I fix my gaze at the ceiling “I went to clean up the broken glass after they had dozed off but I fell and cut myself.” Ivar sighs. Now he knows. Somehow, talking about our respective families seems even more daunting than trying to have sex.

“I’m so sorry-” He noses at the scar, placing a kiss there before continuing “-For what Ubbe did, for not understanding how scared you were.” My lips automatically purse at the mention of Ivar’s older brother, a stiffness setting in my limbs. Talk about an effective way to kill the mood.

“He loves you very much.” I finally get out from between grit teeth. Ivar shakes his head decisively. 

“That doesn’t mean he gets to do whatever he wants,” His hands make their way under my skirt and start to tug at the waistline of my panties “I’m a big boy and I get to decide who I date.” I automatically raise my hips of the mattress to make it easier for him and soon enough the blue silk is bunched up in his fist. He looks entranced by them, using his thumb to rub circles into the fabric. The memory of what I had caught him doing this morning makes my breath hitch in my throat. The thought that I should reassure him, tell him again that I’m not mad at him, crosses my mind.

“Ivar…” My voice fades away, forgetting what I was about to say, as I watch him lifting them to his nose and inhaling. His eyes close, a distinct growl falling from his mouth and some inhuman noise leaves me in response. He takes another whiff before throwing the underwear aside and latching onto the hem of my skirt, beginning to search along the fabric for a way to remove it. It proves to be a more difficult task than he probably initially thought. I can’t help but smile at his growing frustration, seeing his brow crease as he makes no progress. I finally take pity on him, clearing my throat and pointing at my left hip.

“Här, Ivar.” He huffs, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks, then grabs me by the hips to make me turn on my side.

“You should wear shorter skirts.” He remarks while pulling down the zip. I lie on my back again and grin up at him, one hand curling around the back of his neck.

“Is is because you want to be able to see my underwear every time I reach for something in the kitchen?”

“Kanske.” Ivar replies while tugging the skirt down my legs. I stick my tongue out at him and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Stygg pojke,” I say with a click of my tongue ”you’ll have to wait until summer.” He gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes but cranes his neck to kiss me. It’s soft, barely more than lips brushing against each other, and I whine against the corner of his mouth. Then he hooks a finger around my bra strap. He doesn’t move it, only holds a finger there as if waiting for my reaction. I give him another quick kiss then prop myself up on my elbows so that he can reach behind my back. While Ivar works at the bra clasp I nuzzle at his collarbone. I swear I can hear his breath hitch when the clasp gives and he can remove my last item of clothing. Ivar hovers above me, propped up on his knees and fists. A sound similar to my own snort laugh, though this is objectively much cuter, leaves him. 

“You’re naked.”

“Very much so.” I answer, squirming a little under him for good measure and his abdominal muscles twitch as he gasps. Ivar’s fingertips brush over my stomach.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“No, I’m good,” The way his loose hair frames his face nearly makes me whine “Perfect actually.” Ivar beams at me and he nudges me into lying back down. I’m on display for him, stretched out on the bed. He moves all the way down to the foot of the bed and I wonder what he’s planning. I don’t have to wait long to find out. Ivar runs his hands along the soles of my feet then lifts each foot up to kiss my ankles. Each touch somehow manages to be both gentle and rough. His calloused fingertips lead the way, kneading and pinching their way up my legs, while his lips trail kisses in their wake. He nips at my thighs before moving on and kissing the scar again, then takes a handful of my left breast while leaning down to capture my right nipple in his mouth. I jump, gasping at the feeling of his tongue briefly flicking against the bud before he releases me again. Ivar cages my face between his palms.

“Min vackra flickvän.”

“I’m your girlfriend?”

“Ja.” He answers without hesitation, only for his face to turn the colour of a firetruck. Ivar moves in a hurry, suddenly lying on his back next to me instead. He begins to ramble.

“Unless you don’t want to because I know-” I interrupt his babbling by dragging myself on top of him. He looks at me with wide eyes, worrying at the plump bottom lip.

“I moved in with you, Ivar,” I say softly “Förstår du vad det betyder?” He nods. I crane my neck to kiss him on his full lips, swallowing the mewl that escapes him.

“Can I see you now?” I ask. Ivar hesitates, chewing at the insides of his cheeks. As tempting as it is to just aimlessly grope at every last inch of him, I force myself to stay put until he agrees. We have already tried rushing into things without communicating at first and look where that got us; eight months of sheer pain and awkwardness. This is not the time to push. Ivar seems to come to a decision because his hands slide down my arms until he can grasp at my wrists, guiding me to the hemline of his t-shirt.

“You don’t have to.” I say, even as my fingers hook around the fabric.

“I know.” His hair becomes ruffled in the process of undressing and somehow that only makes him look better. Once the cotton lies discarded on the floor I situate myself next to Ivar and reach for him, trying to smooth a palm along his torso. The panic in his eyes makes me stop, hands instead going to his cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I whisper, then cup his face and bring him in for a kiss. Ivar lifts his head to meet me, whimpering into my mouth.

“Why don’t we start somewhere more familiar? Like here.” My hands come to rest in his hair and I wait for him to agree. Ivar nods shyly. I find the valve of his shunt again and he shudders.

“Sssh, babe,” I soothe him “du är så vacker.” As I play with his hair, Ivar continues to relax under me. Eventually he mewls like a content cat and my face breaks into a smile. His face reddens as he notices the way I’m looking at him. I move on from his hair, slipping down to his shoulders and pausing there for a short moment. Ivar shifts on the bed, moving closer and resting on his side. I take it as a sign to continue. One hand comes to rest at his cheek, caressing it while the other gently soothes over the spot above his sacrum where the protrusion was before the surgery.

“Does it hurt?” I ask and Ivar shakes his head no.

“Not so bad,” He answers “not right now.” Ivar doesn’t protest as I open his belt and zipper. He helps me pull the pants down his legs and we stop for a short moment, adjusting to his legs being bare, before repeating it with his boxer briefs. He murmurs something inaudible against the top of my head.

“What is it?” I press closer to him “Tell me.”

“W-would you le-let me,um...” His voice trails off and he mimics a grinding motion, the dejected look in his eyes making it look like I’ve already turned him down. I run one hand over his abdomen.

“Var vill du ha mig?” He has me lying on my other side, back pressed against his chest and ass snug to his crotch. Ivar bucks at my backside once.

“Du är så jävla sexig.” He whines into my ear before repeating the motion and this time I push my hips back to meet him.

“My girl is so smart,” He praises “Smartest one I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t exaggerate.” I murmur halfheartedly, even as I blush, but Ivar keeps on insisting.

“Det är sant.” He says, then groans as he grinds against me again. Each time he moves a little quicker and each time I push back to meet him. Soon we are both panting and it feels as if the room is 100 degrees warm. Ivar whines into my messy hair. Suddenly he slips a hand between my legs, cursing when finds my folds slick with arousal, and before I know it Ivar has pushed me onto my back. He settles between my spread legs. I’m still in shock when the first kiss lands high up on my thigh. Ivar copies the gesture on the other side then drags his tongue between my lips, making me shout and clamp my thighs around his head. His fingers dig into my skin as he searches out my clit and traps it between his lips, giving it a firm suck before returning to sloppily licking at my folds. Not long after I am reminded of how strong he is as he pries my thighs apart to give himself space to work a hand between my legs. Two thick digits sink into my cunt while Ivar mouths at my stomach, sucking hard enough that I’m sure there will be marks to show for it. He twists his wrist until finding the spot that has tension building throughout my entire body, then continues stroking it with his fingertips until I arch up off the bed in the throes of my orgasm. Once the tension has faded away and I’ve sunken back down on the mattress, Ivar crawls up my body again. His chin is still coated with my slick and I lift my head up to kiss him, not pulling back until we have to catch our breath.

“Okay, now I’m starting to get a bit cold.” I admit. Ivar half-laughs at me but he moves, tugging at the covers until we can settle under them. I settle with my head at his shoulder, pressing kisses along his neck until my eyelids grow heavy.

  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The window is open, letting in the late July air as we sit huddled around the living room table. It is starting to look worn; not strange considering we’ve used it every day for over three years. Elin gulps down the last of her honeyed tea before turning to Ivar.

“So you have just defeated the animated armor. The room is clear of enemies. Gregor, what do you do?” Ivar leans forward, hands clasped tightly together in his lap.

“I move towards the chest, intent on opening it.”

“No, no no!” Adina shouts in her Saga-voice, so loudly that I am startled “I swear to Pelor that I will bodyslam you if you try to open it!” Ivar shoots Adina a disgruntled look but he doesn’t press the matter further. I pat his back and offer him a smile.

“Sorry, gubben. We do not open chests without investigating them first.” I explain and Elin nods in agreement.

“You know what happened to the previous party I played with?” She says “Two out of four members died because they fucked around with a chest that apparently contained a fire trap.” Ivar whistles, eyes wide as saucers.

“Jäklar.” Elin chuckles at his apparent horror.

“Never trust anything in this game, especially not when I’m the DM. So, what do you do?” Ivar sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth as if contemplating.

“I mutter at being threatened by Saga,” He finally says “but I step aside and wait to see what the others do.”

“Saga has already made it clear that she sees Silke as the leader of this group.” I take a swig of water while looking over the spellsheet.

“I move 30 feet away from the chest-” I start.

“So over by the entrance then?” Elin asks.

“Yeah,” I nod in affirmation “and I gesture for everyone else to get to a safe distance from the chest, like go hide behind one of the pillars or in one of the corners.”

“Gregor grumbles but he does as he’s told, stepping behind one of the pillars.” Ivar adds in, prompting Adina to snort.

“Fredrika, what does Silke do?”

“She uses mage hand,” I declare “Silke conjures a spectral hand that just sort of floats in the air and she sends it across the room to open the chest, all the while praying to the gods that it is in fact just a chest and not some horrible thing with powerful attacks.”

“The chest opens and-” Elin pauses to grin wickedly and I ready myself to hear her say ‘roll initiative’ “-and nothing happens.” I slump against the backrest, sighing with relief. Elin’s grin only widens as I continue describing the actions of my character. Maybe she does have something planned that will get us all killed after all.

“Silke walks across the room, calling out to the others that it’s safe.”

“Saga pokes her head out from behind a pillar,” Adina mumbles around a mouthful of watermelon “she doesn’t have the guts to walk up to the chest until she's sure it's not a trap.”

“Once there, Silke gets down on her knees and curves her fingers around the edge of the lid then opens the chest.” I’m practically bouncing in the couch in my eagerness to hear what treasure will be hidden inside it; God knows we’ve worked hard to get it.

“When you open the chest you are shocked to find that it almost completely empty-” Elin reaches for her tablet and unlocks the screen “-in fact, there is only one object in it.” Elin turns her tablet to show us a picture, though it seems like she’s aiming it mostly at me.

“A small black box.” She says softly. I’ve only ever seen proposals in movies but I’m as good as 100% sure that it’s a ring box. Is she asking me for my blessing to propose to Lily? This seems like an awfully dramatic way of doing it. Couldn’t she just have texted or something? I do love Lily and of course I want Elin to be happy. Before I can tell Elin any of this, someone else calls for my attention.

“Fredrika.” Ivar speaks next to me. Turning, I see him looking like he might pass out at any second. My mind goes into overdrive. Is it his shunt? He has been acting strange for the last couple of days, seeming less focused and he did say he had a headache. It malfunctioned last year too and he ended up in the hospital. Why haven’t I connected the dots until now? Ivar clears his throat and I’m fully expecting the next words out of his mouth to be ‘call an ambulance’. He raises his arms, trembling so violently that he fumbles with the box in his hands. Oh.

“Will- will you-” He stops, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens them again there’s a new calm there.

“Will you marry me?” Ivar asks. The room is dead silent, at least I think it is. I’m not sure if any noise could ever pierce the bubble I’m in.  _ Of course I want to marry you _ , I shout. My head is spinning.  _ Jag älskar dig, jag älskar dig så mycket _ . It is only by the worried look on Ivar’s face that I realize I’m not actually saying these things out loud.

“Yes.” I finally get out. Behind me, someone sobs.

“Yes?” He repeats in a high pitched voice.

“Yes.” I say, this time with more certainty. I lean in towards Ivar and he fumbles again as he takes the ring out. He barely has time to slip it on my finger before my friends are screaming. We only have time for a rushed kiss before a familiar voice shouts from the bedroom across the hall.

“Can I come out of here now?!” I turn from my fiancé just in time to see Johanna bursting out. She crosses the hallway in no time, flinging herself at me with such fervor that I tip backwards into Ivar’s solid chest.

“Grattis!” Johanna beams at me. Ivar steadies me with a firm grip at my waist so that I can reciprocate my cousin’s embrace.

“How long have you been here?” I sob into her shoulder, not noticing until now that I am crying.

“You didn’t think I’d miss this going down, huh?” She laughs “I snuck in while you guys went on a snack run!” Johanna’s grip on me only tightens as she notices my tears.

“Besides,” she continues “Ivar here needed a little bit of assistance with picking a ring.”

“All part of the plan.” Elin adds smugly. Amid all of the chaos, I realize that Ivar has taken great care to ensure that every person that I love had a part to play in this. I wriggle free of Johanna’s rib crushing hug and clutch at his shirt. There’s a cacophony of whistling and gagging noises from behind us as I meld my lips to his.

 

The others chatter in our living room while I search the kitchen for glasses so that we can serve the champagne that Floki and Helga brought with them. They were in on it too. I’m so spaced out that it takes me several minutes to find the right shelf, so far away in my mind that I don’t even hear Ivar’s cane click against the floor. Suddenly he is behind me and I’m pulled back against his chest with a surprised squeal leaving me.

“I was thinking-” He squeezes my waist “-after they’ve left, would you like to watch a movie?” I turn to wrap my arms around him, kissing his cheek.

“Do you mean watch a movie or  _ watch a movie _ ?” Ivar chuckles.

“Gissa.”

 

Later that night, I scrape my nails down Ivar’s naked back. The movie, whichever one he picked, is just background noise at this point. Ivar leaves open mouthed kisses all over my neck.

“I have to say I’m surprised that you let them in on the proposal.” His mouth disconnects from my skin with a wet sound.

“I’m full of surprises.” He says, a smile playing at his lips. I clasp my hands at the back of his neck and lean down to kiss him. He’s so warm, tasting just a little bit of sweat from his upper lip.

“We should probably tell your family.” I murmur, hoping that he will say it can wait until tomorrow. Ivar stills for a moment.

“Not yet-” He finally answers, one hand slipping between my thighs “-there are other things I’m more interested in doing right now.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The front door slams shut behind us. Ivar has been silent the entire way home from the hospital and I just figured he didn’t want to talk about it with the driver there, but now we’re alone and he still doesn’t say a word as we take off our coats and shoes. He shuffles right past me into the kitchen and begins to rummage through the refrigerator for leftovers. I watch for a few seconds before speaking.

“I don’t want to try again.”

“You want to give up?” Ivar asks without even looking up.

“No, I just-”

“Then we are trying again.” He interrupts “Third time’s the charm, you know.” His voice is completely even, as if we haven’t just gotten devastating news.

“Ivar, no!” I shout and he finally looks at me. His knuckles are white from the tight grip at the plastic box.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” I croak “I’m the one who has to take pills to get rid of our dead baby. Again.” He doesn’t answer, only stares at me. I turn on my heel and storm into our bedroom, using a pillow to muffle my sobs. I hear Ivar enter but neither of us say anything. He lies down, arms wrapping around me, and my shoulder becomes wet with his tears.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The boy, our boy, doesn’t seem too fond of airplanes. His crying is no doubt disturbing the other passengers but I couldn’t care less. Frankly, I’m not even as worried about his crying as I feel I should be. The sight of Ivar cradling the discontent baby is strangely soothing. The way children, even Björn’s children, immediately take to Ivar used to baffle me but now it seems like the most natural combination in the world; Hvitserk’s daughter blatantly refuses to let anyone but fabbo Ivar help her put her shoes on. We land in Stockholm and make our way to the baggage claim, finding Hvitserk and Adina waiting for us as agreed; I’m fairly certain Adina’s squeal can be heard from a mile away. Getting in the car is no small task but somehow we manage it with Adina shouting out instructions as if she’s guiding us through a high level game of tetris. I end up in the backseat, crammed between Hvitserk and the car seat. My theory that our boy hates planes is only furthered proved by the fact that he quieted down as soon as we got off and is now soundly asleep.

“Ubbe, Elin and Lily are at the house,” Adina informs us as she maneuvers the car out of the parking lot “They might have gone a bit overboard with the decorations.”

“Not to mention the gifts.” Hvitserk adds in a chipper tone.

“And Sigurd?” Ivar asks. His question immediately dampens the mood. I glance at Hvitserk, discomfort written plainly on his face.

“Couldn’t make it,” the older brother murmurs “Blaeja is sick.” That’s his favourite excuse. I distract myself from the tense silence by adjusting our boy’s socks. Hvitserk nudges at me to steal my attention away from the baby.

“Is this from the orphanage?” He asks, pointing to the photo album that’s sticking out of my carry-on “Can I look?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” He wastes no time in grabbing the album and beginning to flip through it. 

He doesn’t make it far before he begins to snicker and I lean closer to see which picture it is that has him laughing. The boy is sitting on the floor, studying an easy bake oven while clutching a plastic hamburger in one hand.

“I see he already has an interest in cooking.” My brother-in-law comments. 

  
  
  


Hvitserk pops the trunk open and begins to unload our bags, grunting for Adina not to stand too close unless she wants her toes to get crushed. Ivar peers down at the boy over my shoulder, observing the way he squirms in his sleep.

“He can sleep in our bed tonight, right?” I ask in a whisper. Ivar’s lips ghost over my temple.

“Of course he can, darling.” We’re still standing in the driveway when a familiar car pulls up next to Hvitserk’s. The car has barely stopped moving before Helga leaps out of it and dashes across the asphalt to greet us.

“Son, meet Helga.” Ivar says, radiating with pride. She clings to my other shoulder.

“I will always have your favourite cereal,” she promises just as Floki joins us “even the ones mommy and daddy doesn’t want you to eat because they’re too sugary.” Floki gives the boy one look then giggles in the same over the top way as always and pats Ivar on the back.

When we step inside the house we are greeted by Elin, Lily and Ubbe. Their mouths all fall open at once as if to speak but Ivar shushes them before they can get a word out.

“Keep it down. He’s asleep.” Elin glares at Ivar then exaggeratedly tiptoes over to me.

“Din söta lilla jävel.” She whispers, running her fingers along the outline of his arm. They all take turns holding him, Ubbe with a look of longing in his eyes.

“So are you guys finally going to tell us what name you decided on?” Lily asks once the boy has been returned to my arms. Ivar looks to me and I nod my permission.

“Alvar,” He announces “for Fredrika’s grandfather. And Floki as his middlename.” As if on cue, everyone looks to Floki for his reaction. Helga beams up at him. There’s that distinct giggle again, cut short by a sob.

 

Ivar climbs into bed, careful not to disturb Alvar that has been teetering on the edge of falling asleep for the past 15 minutes. I adjust the cover but I don’t dare to say a word that might wake up the boy that is resting between us. It takes another few minutes but finally we can hear the calm breathing indicating that he is asleep. Ivar and I lean over Alvar, kiss each other good night, then settle down for the night on either side of our son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> Det är okej - It's okay  
> Ögonfrans - Eyelash  
> Här - Here  
> Kanske - Maybe  
> Stygg pojke - Naughty boy  
> Min vackra flickvän - My beautiful girlfriend  
> Ja - Yes  
> Förstår du vad det betyder? - Do you understand what that means?  
> Du är så vacker - You are so beautiful  
> Var vill du ha mig? - Where do you want me?  
> Du är så jävla sexig - You are so damn sexy  
> Det är sant - It is true  
> Gubben - Old man  
> Jäklar - Damn  
> Jag älskar dig, jag älskar dig så mycket - I love you, I love you so much  
> Grattis - Congratulations  
> Gissa - Guess  
> Fabbo (how a child might pronounce farbror) - paternal uncle  
> Din söta lilla jävel - You cute little bastard
> 
> NAME
> 
> Alvar - From the Old Norse name Alfarr, formed of the elements alfr "elf" and arr "warrior"
> 
>  
> 
> PROPOSAL
> 
> The proposal scene was inspired by a prompt that I saw on tumblr, I will add a link once I find that post again.

**Author's Note:**

> AIFUR is a Viking themed restaurant / bar in Stockholm. I've never been there but I've heard that it's good and I hope to go there this summer.
> 
> FRASSES is a Swedish hamburger restaurant.
> 
> HNEFATAFL is a game that has some similarities with chess. It's the game that Ubbe played with Harald in S04E04.
> 
> “A furore Normannorum, libera nos, Domine.” – “From the fury of the Northmen, deliver us, O Lord.” Preface from Vikingar i krig.
> 
>  
> 
> Vikingar i krig by Kim Hjardar and Vegard Vike.  
> Excerpt from the book: “Training with weapons from an early age was an important requisite in order for men to be able to hold their own as warriors. But in Old Scandinavian society, athletics also included spiritual activities. In one strophe that's attributed to king Harald Hårdråde he says that he masters several different sports, including poetics, riding, swimming, skiing, archery, rowing and playing the harp. Chess, carving runes, metalwork and being well-read were also considered sports during the Viking and early medieval times.”*
> 
> *Please note that I read this book in Swedish and this is just my shitty attempt at translating this specific excerpt.
> 
> The witchcraft trials in Finnmark, northern Norway by Liv Helene Willumsen  
> Excerpt from the book: “Compared to other areas of Norway, the witch persecution in Finnmark was intense. The rate of death sentences resembles that in parts of Europe where witches were persecuted particularly rigorously. In the seventeenth century, the population of Finnmark was no more than 3000, which was 0.8% of the population of Norway. Nevertheless, 16% of all Norwegian witchcraft trials took place here, and 31% of all death sentences in Norwegian witchcraft trials were passed here. The rate of execution was much higher than the European average. Thus the witch-hunt must have had an enormous impact on the population in Finnmark.”
> 
> Excerpt from the book: “Two ethnic groups, Norwegians and Samis, lived side by side in seventeenth-century Finnmark, and both groups suffered from the ongoing persecution of witches. At the time, Sami men were reputed throughout Europe to be well versed in the art of magic, a fact that might be associated with their ritual use of rune drums. Against this background the representation of Sami persons in the sources is interesting. Approximately 20% of persons accused of practising witchcraft in Finnmark were Samis. The others were Norwegian. With regard to gender, nine out of ten of the accused women were Norwegians. Thus, among the women accused, the Norwegians were worst hit. A different picture applies to men: Out of 24 accused men, 16 were Samis, out of whom 13 were executed. The Sami men who were sentenced to the stake received their judgements before 1640. Also the last witchcraft case in Finnmark was related to a Sami person. The shaman Anders Poulsen was tried in 1692. However, he never received any sentence, as his case was deferred, pending orders from Copenhagen. He was murdered with an axe while in legal custody.”
> 
> Excerpt from the book: “This volume of witchcraft sources shows that intense witchcraft trials took place in the very north of Europe. As compared to the rest of Europe, the Finnmark witch-hunt has distinctive traits due to its peripheral location and special ethnic conditions. At the same time, learned European notions about witchcraft found its way to this marginal area*, creating an unsecure atmosphere for common people, particularly women, in a period of history when belief in the power of witches was a fact among elite as well as peasants. The co-existence of demonological ideas and traditional Sami sorcery put a distinctive stamp on the Finnmark witchcraft trials, as will be seen from the court records rendered in this book. The publication stands as a valuable contribution to the literature of witchcraft and to the history of mentality in early modern Europe.”
> 
> *During the time of the Finnmark witchcraft trials, Denmark ruled Norway. This meant that there was no strong central security, and that the local authorities held a great deal of power. In addition, these local authorities often consisted not of Norwegians, but rather of men from Denmark, Germany and Scotland. These countries already had a history of witch trials.
> 
> Witches of the North by Liv Helene Willumsen

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End file.
